It's That Time Of Year
by TStabler
Summary: Annual Holiday series! One-shots and two-parters that will all revolve around Christmas. Some nice, some naughty. E/O and other pairings, family, humor, romance, and some drama. Tis The Season!
1. Black Friday, One Shot

**A/N: A true holiday beginning, of course, begins on Black Friday.**

**DISCLAIMER: Dick Wolf owns SVU and the characters; TStabler© owns the story you're about to read.**

"I can't believe we spent two hours in line for this," she complains, waving a small pink and white striped bag in the air.

He smirks at her. "It was a present," he says. "To myself. One I am going to thoroughly enjoy unwrapping," he says through gritted teeth, with wagging eyebrows.

She rolls her eyes and swats the bag at him. "Keep it up, and I'll return this barely-there, see-through, piece of dental floss."

He gasps. "You wouldn't!"

"Did we get everything?" she asks, laughing again and looking at him. She wiggles her fingers, the ones he has been holding for the last four hours, and she smiles.

"I think so," he says, running his thumb along the side of her hand. "Got the tree, new ornaments, lights, everything on the kids' lists, that slinky red thing you looked so fucking amazing in," he bites his lip and pulls her closer to him.

"So, we got everything," she chuckles. "We can finally go home. What time is it, anyway?"

He turns his wrist, and subsequently hers, and looks at his watch. "It is…four thirty-seven in the morning," he tells her. "We have officially survived Black Friday in Manhattan."

"I feel kinda bad for Munch and Fin, though," she sighs. "Stuck at work while we're out shopping and watching all the holiday lights go up around the city."

"Funny," he chuckles. "I don't feel bad about it at all." He kisses her and growls a bit. "And you thought this wasn't gonna be fun."

She laughs, and she shakes her head at the bright look in his eyes. "Only you," she says with a sigh.

"Hmm?" he questions.

"I would only stay awake this late when I don't have to just to go shopping, if it's with you," she explains. "I'm doing a lot of things I wouldn't normally do because of you."

He grins. "Like cooking the turkey all by yourself yesterday?"

"I had a little help from Paula Dean and Rachael Ray," she chuckles. "You might wanna go through the DVR when we get home."

"Oh, we're not heading home yet," he tells her, pulling her closer to him. He kisses her forehead and wraps his arm around her, still clutching her hand tightly. "I've got a surprise for you."

She stifles a yawn. "How? I've been with you for the last forty-eight hours, non-stop. You haven't been out of my sight!"

"When I took the tree home," he reminds her, "You stayed at Saks." He winks at her and leads her into the iron gate of Central Park. "Think of it as a very late 'thank-you-for-moving-in-with-me present."

As they move further into the park, white flurries begin to fall around them, and Olivia looks up with surprised eyes. "You made it snow for me?" she teases.

"Yeah," he laughs. "Me and God, baby, we're that close." He rolls his eyes. "I guess we can do this in the snow," he mumbles. "Over here, Liv."

She follows his lead, and she gasps when she sees a thick woolen blanket settled between two trees, a picnic basket, and a man in a police uniform.

"Thanks for watching it, Frank," Elliot says to the young cop.

"Anytime, Elliot," the young man says with a tilt of his hat. "Nice to see you, Detective Benson."

She waves, and watches him leave, then allows Elliot to ease her down onto the blanket. "What is all this?" she asks, seeing him open the basket.

With a smug smile, he takes out a bottle of champagne and pops the cork.

They share a laugh as the foam runs over the bottle and into their laps, and she takes a glass from him. She clinks it against his, though she doesn't know what they've just toasted. "El? Your reason, here?"

He puts down his glass and reaches back into the basket, lifting out a small pink box and a fork. "Yesterday, you cooked a meal for fifteen people. My kids, my mother, my brother and his wife, my sister's whole family," he rattles off. "It was our first Thanksgiving in the new house, only our second as a couple, and you went above and beyond…" he swallows. "And then you come out on the craziest night of the year to pick out a tree with me, meaning you're actually helping me decorate for Christmas this year."

"I told you," she shrugs, "I'm a different woman with you, El."

"No," he smiles. "You're just yourself with me, because you can be. Just like I am more of myself with you. You're not different at all, baby. You're just happier, more comfortable, and less afraid."

She smiles at him. "This is true," she says with a small nod.

"Anyway, I did this to…I guess since we were with a thousand people yesterday, I just wanted some time alone with you," he shrugs. "I wanted to be spontaneous and romantic."

"At four in the morning?" she chuckles.

"Four fifty, to be exact," He opens the box and he laughs when he sees her eyes twinkle. "You want this, don't you?"

"Oh, hell yes," she chuckles, opening her mouth as he holds a forkful of the sinful, chocolate cupcake out to her. She moans, her eyes close, and she licks her lips. "You know exactly how to make me happy," she garbles as she chews.

He laughs again, then pauses, taking in the sight of her at the moment. How cute she looks with rosy cheeks, how beautiful her eyes are when they crinkle a bit as she laughs. "You got a little…" he lifts his thumb to the corner of her mouth and swipes away some stray icing. He sucks it off of his fingertip, looking into her eyes.

She knows he's moving closer, and it only makes her smile wider. She kisses him back with just as much power and feeling as he is giving her, and her gloved hands wrap around his neck. She moans, though, as he pulls away from her.

He gets to his feet and holds his hands out to her, looking down. "Dance with me?"

"You're suffering from severe exhaustion, aren't you?" she chides, giving him an odd look, but letting him pull her up.

He chuckles as he shakes his head. "No, I just really wanna dance with you right now. It's snowing, it's just the two of us, and I think we need to dance."

"To what music?" she asks.

He pulls her close to him, sways her, and begins to sing softly, into her ear. "Christmas time is so special when you're kissing me under the mistletoe…"

"N'Sync, El? Couldn't come up with anything better?" she jokes.

"Exchanging love and gifts, sitting in front of the tree," he continues, moving his head a bit, then gazing at her as he serenades, and moves them slowly around the blanket, their dance-floor. "Me holding you and you holding me…"

She laughs, but she loves it. Something about him singing to her, dancing with her, in the park in the snow in the middle of the night, warms her heart and her body. Lost in him, she hasn't noticed that he's taken something out of his pocket.

"I've prayed," he sings a bit softer, "To be loved on Christmas…" and then he stops. He slips his other hand from around her waist, then slips the chain that's been dangling from his fingers around her neck. "Liv," he whispers, getting her attention.

"What is…what is this?" she asks, fingering the shiny pendant she's only just noticed.

He smiles at her. "Wouldn't be a full Black Friday experience if I didn't get something for my girl, would it?"

"Your girl?" she says with a raised eyebrow, but the smile on her face proves she doesn't mind.

He reaches for the necklace, for her neck, and after he straightens the diamond a bit, he links his hands behind her. "My girl," he whispers, his lips just brushing against hers. "This is all I really wanted for Christmas, you know that, don't you?"

She squints, she has to since snowflakes have fallen into her eyes and are caught in her lashes. Her breath hitches as he kisses them away, and returns his gaze to her. "What?"

"You," he tells her. "You and me, no more secrets, no more lying. You and me, together, not caring who knows it or who sees it. You and me, under the same roof, with the kids and…I know I'm a mess. I know I'm hard to deal with, I can be thick-headed and stubborn and I have anger issues, but you…you look past all that and you love me more than I ever dreamed you would." He kisses her lips tenderly. "Christmas is gonna be perfect this year."

"Perfect?" she repeats, a question, moving toward him for another kiss.

He nods and kisses her again. "Well, it'll be even more perfect if you wear that slinky, red thing I…"

She silences him with a deep kiss, one they smile and laugh into, and she yelps against his lips as he lifts her into the air and swings her around. Once her feet touch the ground again, she sighs. "Black Friday," she mutters. "Ain't nothin' 'black' about it."

"Not at all," he says, and his lips touch hers once more. As the sun rises, a ray of light peeking through the trees in the park hits them, and he can feel the warmth on his skin. He credits the woman in his arms, though, and holds her tighter.

He really can't wait until Christmas.

**A/N: Next – a one shot. Olivia meets Santa Claus, and she proves that she has been very…very…naughty. **


	2. Candy Cane, One Shot

**A/N: Who doesn't love a candy cane?**

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and related characters are property of Dick Wolf. This story, though, is the property of TStabler**

As soon as the last cop leaves with his child, Elliot pulls off his silly red hat. "Remind me again why I had to be Santa this year?" He gets off of the large chair and moves away from the cheesy snowflake backdrop. "I am still seeing flashbulbs going off." he gripes, rubbing his eyes.

Olivia smiles. "Fin did it last year, and no amount of padding in the world would make Munch a believable Santa." She chuckles and adds, "Besides, they're the precinct kids. You know you love 'em. You're great at this, El, you even got Maureen to sit on your lap."

"Well, she was just trying to butter me up so I'd buy her a car for Christmas," he counters. He scratches his head. "I gotta get outta this thing." He kisses her cheek, ignoring the raising eyes of their colleagues, and heads out of the room into the hall.

She waits a minute, then follows after him, sneaking quietly into the locker room. She gingerly closes the door behind her and twists her wrist slowly, holding her breath until she hears the tiny click of the lock.

He hums "Jingle Bells" to himself as he unbuttons his thick, red jacket and pulls the large pillows out of his costume. He doesn't know he's being watched.

"Hey, Santa," she says, eyeing him as he tugs off the itchy beard he's been wearing all day. "I got a bone to pick with you."

He turns sharply and quirks an eyebrow at her. "Do you, now?"

She smirks as she steps closer. "You spent so much time with all of those kids," she says, her dark eyes narrow as she reaches for the white trim on his red jacket. "I didn't get to sit on your lap," she complains, pushing him down onto the wooden bench behind him. She straddles him, her heat presses against the newly formed bulge in his pants and she chuckles. "I didn't get to tell you what I want for Christmas," she continues, rocking her hips, rubbing against him, making him harder. "And," she pauses, her eyes twinkle as she watches beads of sweat forming on his forehead, "You didn't even give me a candy cane."

He swallows hard, and even though the suit pants are way too big on him, he feels the red cotton tighten, his erection straining to feel more of the gloriousness that is this woman. "Well," he finally speaks, "You're on my lap, now, so...what do you want for Christmas?"

She chuckles as she presses against him with more force, rocking into him hard, making him moan her name softly. "A candy cane," she pants. Her hands move toward the big, silver belt buckle and he gasps beneath her. She loves how weak she can make him.

"I think I only have one left," he breathes. "But, uh, it might be a little too big for you."

She wiggles on him, her hands yanking his belt out of the red loops of his pants. "Santa's getting a bit cocky, isn't he?"

He bites his lip and grunts, thrusting up against her. "What do you think?" he spits.

She takes advantage of his raised hips and pulls down the bottom half of the costume. She returns her hands to his chest, bare under the opened jacket, and she drags her nails over his skin lightly.

He exhales and shuts his eyes; he never can handle her aggressive side head on, it always makes him ready to cum, ready to blow too soon. "Oh," he moans, a long note, as she takes hold of his length, "You've been a very naughty girl, haven't you?"

She moans right back at him as he trails his large fingers up the hem of her dress. "Oh, yeah," she nods.

He watches with dark eyes as she slides off of his lap and down to the floor, and he loses all grasp of reality when her warm mouth devours his thickness almost completely. "Ho, ho, ho," he mumbles, his fingers dragging through her hair.

She hums around him and then slips her lips away. "Merry Christmas," she says with a wink, then takes him into her waiting mouth again, eagerly sucking him.

"And a happy fucking new year," he says with gritted teeth, thrusting up, into her mouth.

She doesn't gag, she doesn't even flinch. She takes him down her throat with lust in her eyes and she's thankful she locked the door because this is going to go farther than she planned. She slides off of him, sucks on his tip for a long moment, then licks up and down his shaft once before climbing back up to him and wrapping her legs around his waist.

He clutches her neck and roughly pulls her head closer to his. "You're asking for it," he grits out with clenched teeth.

"I know I am," she whispers, biting his lip. "What are you gonna do about it?"

"Fuck, Benson," he grumbles, shifting his weight and gripping her hips. He snakes his hands up her thighs, under her dress, and grabs the strip of lace she calls underwear. He yanks hard, tearing the fabric away from her body.

She almost growls, and she knows it's going to be rough. He only calls her "Benson" when it's rough.

He knows his hands are cold; he'd been playing in the snow with what seemed like a thousand kids. He smirks as he pushes an icy finger into her.

She gasps and bucks her body hard, then moans as she feels a second thick digit twist inside of her. "Shit," it comes out with a shiver.

"Fuck, you're dripping," he chuckles, pulling his fingers out of her.

And she is. She has been for hours, and it's all because of the man in the Santa suit beneath her. She doesn't know if it's his smile, the sparkle in his eyes, or the visions of his naked body that flash through her mind every time she looks at him, but he makes her wet without even trying.

He stands, then, making her yelp softly and hold onto him. He has her wrapped around his waist, tight against him, and he turns fast, slamming her into the wall. "I wanna feel you," he says, his voice soft, low, reeking of sex. "All of you," he adds, his nose grazing her cheek. He holds her firm and gives a slight twist of his hips. He nudges her entrance with the slightly slick tip of his girth. He watches her eyes, his own narrow, and he thrusts hard. No pretense, no gentleness, no warning. "Oh, fuck," he lets out, a curse and a prayer and a thank-you all at once.

"Jesus," she seethes, her legs tightening around him and her back arching.

"Is this what you came in here for?" his gravelly voice asks, his body hitting into hers with purpose. "Huh?"

Caught between the most intense pleasure and most agonizing pain she's ever felt, she chooses to ignore the pain and she moans, "Yes. God, yes!"

He knows her voice, he knows her body, and he looks at the wall behind her. He mumbles an apology as he moves her a few inches to the left. "Better?" he asks.

She nods, her lip between her teeth, and she settles back now that the hook on the wall is no longer digging into the small of her back. Now it's pure pleasure that's ripping through her body. She whines and rolls her hips into him. "Oh, shit, Elliot," she whispers. She works her hands up, under his jacket, and paws at his body.

He chuckles and slams into her harder, making their flesh slap loudly as it meets. "Come on, Benson," he growls at her, "Tell me what you want." He feels her nails clawing at his back and his heart momentarily stops. She will be the death of him.

"Harder," she tells him, her fingers fighting their way down his body, battling the rippling muscles under them.

He kisses her, his mouth catching her cries as he braces himself against the wall and pounds into her. He bites her lips, nibbles her tongue, and hears the groans and whimpers coming from his lover. He knows she's bruising; he feels his pelvic bone slam into hers with every hit and knows it's gonna do some damage. It doesn't stop him, though. It only pushes him on. "Tell me," he demands, slamming into her hard.

"God," she moans. "Is that all you got, Stabler?"

He grins and takes a step backward, then shoves her legs down. Without halting his thrusts, he spins her around and fists her hair. Pummeling her from behind, he presses her into the wall and whispers into her ear. "Tell me you like it." He licks the rim of her ear and nips the lobe.

"Fuck," she spits. "You know I do." She stretches one arm up, backward, behind her, and grasps at his neck.

He busies himself with gnawing at a sensitive spot on her neck, just where it meets her shoulder, and he hates that he was too impatient to get her out of her dress. He wants nothing more than to pinch and tug at her nipples, not because he loves it, though he does. He needs to touch her nipples to set her off, he knows he has made her cum from only toying with them, teasing them. He knows it drives her mad. "Off," he snaps, dragging his teeth over the thin strap of her dress.

She shakes her head, the only part of her body besides her arms she can move. "Work for it," she returns, catching his lip between her teeth.

He lets out a fierce sounding growl, and shifts all of his support onto his right hand, pressing it harder against the wall. He increases his speed, earning a gasp and a loud cry of his name from the wanton woman he has sandwiched between him and a slab of drywall. "Fine," he mumbles. He brings his left hand up to the strap of her dress and slides it off of her shoulder. He works under the shimmery, silver fabric, his palm cups her breast, his thumb and forefinger tweak her already hardened bud. "How much more can you take?" he breathes against the skin of her neck.

"How much more ya got?" she challenges, rocking her body into his, meeting his thrusts.

"Damn it, Liv," he snarls. He pulls his hand out of her dress and he yanks on her hair as he moves his body backward and forces her to bend over slightly. He runs the pinky of his other hand along her spine, feels her shudder, and knows she knows what's about to happen. "I got what you want."

She closes her eyes and presses her lips together, her fingers try to grip the wall in front of her, and she feels his hand move from her back to her hip, then to her belly button, then she jerks and tenses. "Shit, El," she wheezes.

His fingers have found her clit, and he chuckles as he rolls it between them. He feels her grow wetter, he leans closer to her. "Say it," he commands.

She would if she could, but her mouth is seared shut, her lips pressed together as she takes it all in. The feeling of him slamming into her, harder than ever. The cold fingers running circles over the most sensitive part of her body. The teeth on the skin of her back, leaving their bitemarks. The fire burning through her veins.

"Say it, God damn it," he hisses into her ear, and when he bites her neck harder, she finally lets it out.

"Fuck, I'm cumming," she cries, her head flying back. "Oh, God, El!" Her body trembles as every muscle fights the tension. She clamps around him, she claws at the arms around her waist, and she tries to hold onto some of her sanity as her legs give out, and she's thankful he's got his arms around her.

He pounds into her still, driving his point home with ten thousand exclamation marks, still flicking at her clit with his left hand and pulling at her nipple again with his right. "Fuck, yeah, baby," he huffs.

She doesn't have time to relax, his forceful body is taking another orgasm from her, and she digs her nails into his right wrist. She pulls his hand up to her mouth and works his palm open and holds it over her lips just in time to muffle the trembling, growling scream that's ripping out of her throat.

"Oh, holy shit," he mutters, pressing his hand against her mouth harder, knowing everyone beyond the room hears her. The sound is too much for him. Her body shaking and the evidence of her pleasure running down his leg drive him over the edge and he grunts repeatedly as his hips give their final hard thwacks against her body and he lets go.

Feeling him release inside of her, she straightens up, rigid with a third rolling wave of electricity.

He watches her face again as her head lands on his shoulder. Her eyes roll back so far that all he can see is the whites of them, and his cock twitches one last time in response to the eroticism of it. "Fucking hell," he says, gasping for air as he finally stops moving. "What the fuck was..."

"I told you," she interrupts. She's unable to stand and is using his body for full support, and she can barely breathe. "I wanted a fucking candy cane."

He laughs, wipes the sweat off his brow with the red sleeve of the Santa jacket he's still wearing. "I think Santa's bringing you a hell of a lot more than a candy cane for Christmas." He turns her around and kisses her, softly this time, as neither one of them has the energy to go another round, and any passionate kiss with drive him into action again.

"Oh?" she questions, gently lapping at his lips with the tip of her tongue, teasing him.

He nods as he tugs up her dress, returns the strap to its rightful place on her shoulder, and straightens the bottom of the garment. "Yeah," he breaths, taking her left hand in his.

She smiles at him, then bends, using her unoccupied right hand to straighten the collar of his jacket. She feels his thumb run over her ring, the diamond catching on his skin and swaying back at forth. She kisses him one last time, and nuzzles his nose as she says, "I'll wait out there for you. Finish changing."

"Finish?" he chuckles. "I didn't even start. They're all probably thinking I got stuck in this thing."

She smirks, then she shrugs. "I think they have a pretty good idea of what you've been doing in here." She pulls her hand out of his, turns, and walks out of the locker room.

He sighs and runs a hand through his damp hair, taking a deep breath. "That woman," he mumbles, shaking his head. He steps out of his red pants, which have been around his ankles for almost an hour, and he bends down to pick up the pillows that once stuffed his suit. He strides over to his locker, fiddles with the combination, and opens the door. And then he laughs.

He reaches into it and picks up the candy cane, lying on top of the fresh, folded clothes that he doesn't remember putting there. He picks up the small sticky note and shakes his head, hearing her voice in his ears as he reads. "You're gonna need these, Santa. And thanks again for the candy cane. Here's one in return, it's a tad bit smaller than the one you gave me. Love, Missus Claus."

**A/N: Next...a family moment, decorating the tree, and one ornament sparks a little something...**


	3. Almost Perfect Christmas Tree, One Shot

**A/N: A Christmas tradition brings light to a hidden desire.**

**DISCLAIMER: Dick Wolf owns SVU and the characters; TStabler© owns the story you're about to read.**

"Okay," Olivia sighs with a grin, straightening out the branches of the tree a bit. "It's ready to be trimmed, I think. Go for it, guys."

The older kids grab tinsel and ornaments from the cardboard boxes littering the floor, and the youngest child sits under the tree, shaking a silver bell and laughing.

She laughs, too, and her eyes shine, brighter than they have in weeks. "This is amazing," she says, turning her head slightly to the left, but keeping her eyes on the happy kids.

"This is Christmas," Elliot whispers into her ear, wrapping his arms around her from behind her for a moment. He kisses the back of her head and then moves to help his oldest daughter wrap the garland around the monstrous fir tree.

"Hey," Dickie, the oldest boy in the family, shouts. He kneels down and pulls an unopened box out of the group of ornaments. "Cool! When did we get new ones?" He flips open the top and lifts out a pale blue, rhinestone-studded, Santa hat. "Um...did we forget to put this on the tree four years ago? Or..."

She takes the glittering ornament from the teenager and her eyes narrow. "How can this be new?" she asks. "It's says 'Baby's First..." She stops. She turns her head and sees Elliot, standing next to the tree with folded arms, biting his lip. "Something you wanna tell me?" she asks him, the sparkly blue porcelain Santa hat dangling by the hook from her fingers.

He looks nervously at his kids, then takes a step toward Olivia. He takes the ornament out of her hands and hands it back to his son. He scratches his head as he says, "Put it back in the box, kid." Then he eyes Olivia again.

"El," she begins, "Why do you have..."

He pulls her out of the living room, into the kitchen, not letting her finish. He lowers his voice and says, "I bought it for you."

She stares at him, stunned. "I haven't had any baby boys recently," she utters dryly.

He chuckles an says, "I know but I bought it because...I want you to." He sighs again. "Dickie didn't know what it was when he took it out of the box. No one was supposed to see it yet." He blinks. "I bought a pink one, too, just in case."

She finally gets it and her eyes widen. "You...you want to have a..."

"Yeah," he whispers, slightly embarrassed by the admission. "I thought we'd have one by now, but...I really want to start trying. Actively trying. I think it's time. Unless you don't want..."

She kisses him, stopping his words, and that's all the answer he needs. "When?" she whispers.

"Now's good," he teases, pressing her up against the fridge, momentarily forgetting the five children in the next room. He lets his left hand slid down her body, squeezing her ass gently, as his lips graze over the skin of her neck. He chuckles as he bites the spot just below her ear.

She laughs and pushes him away from her. "When did you buy those?"

He waits a minute before he answers, dreading her reaction. "Did you happen to notice that Mickey Mouse was sitting on the rim of the hat?"

"Mickey...El, are you telling me you bought those on our honeymoon?" Both her eyebrows are raised and her hands are clutching his shirt.

"If I answer that honestly, you gonna shoot me?" he asks, his eyes twinkling with humor, but it's a serious question.

She smirks. "My gun is in the bedroom." She tilts her head. "You did, huh?"

He kisses her softly. "I figured, by now, we'd have a kid," he shrugs. "I saw them in the gift shop at Epcot, just hanging there, and, ya know, Christmas was ten months away, we had plenty of..."

"You really wanted to knock me up on our honeymoon," she gathers, chuckling.

He grins. "I tried like hell," he teases, nipping at her lips.

She presses her mouth to his, then whispers, "I didn't know. El, I was still on the..."

"Pill," he murmurs. "I knew that. You know I knew that, I...ya know they...I just hoped...sometimes they just don't work," he babbles as he brushes his forehead against hers. "Well, stop. That's what I want for Christmas, I want you to stop taking them."

"I already got your present, though," she quips, but she's smiling. "Are you really ready for another baby? Eli's barely potty trained."

He nods, kissing her again, and he flattens his palms out on the stainless steel fridge behind her. "I'm ready for this with you, I have been for almost a year."

"Hey, parents, guardians, cops!" Kathleen yells. "We need help in here! Dickface is putting every ornament we have on the stupid thing, Eli's eating the plastic candy canes, and Maureen's tangled in the tinsel!"

Elliot laughs and kisses Olivia once more before guiding her out of the kitchen. "You'd think they're old enough to do this by them..."

They both stop, frozen, speechless as they look at the completely finished, absolutely stunning tree. "Wow," Olivia breathes. "Guys, that is..."

"The angel," Lizzie says, holding out the clear, crystal topper. "It's your first Christmas as husband and wife, so we wanted you both to put it up. And also, Dad's the only one tall enough to do it."

Olivia takes the angel from the girl and something inside of her clicks. She smiles as she hands it to Elliot. "All right, husband. Go shove the tree up her butt."

Laughing hard, he drags her toward the tree with him. "You're helping me, wife," he says with a smile. He links his fingers with hers, wraps both of their hands around the angel's wings, and reaches high, setting the topper on the highest bough.

Dickie, smiling, plugs in the cord and flips the switch, and the colored lights flicker to life,. The angel glows, and the kids clap and whoop.

Olivia leans back against Elliot and laughs. "Perfect," she whispers.

"Almost," he says against her skin. "It'll be perfect when one of those new ornaments is on the tree, and there's a baby in your arms with blue eyes and the most unruly brown hair in the world. That's when this will be completely perfect."

"What?" Maureen asks, hearing her father. "Wait, is Liv..."

"No," Elliot answers fast. "But, we're hoping, soon...she will be." He looks at his oldest child, and though she's nearing twenty, he still sees a baby girl. "Is that okay with you?"

"My friend Amanda is pregnant," she returns. "I'm old enough to have a kid, and you want a new one of your own?"

Elliot's eyes narrow. "Yeah," he says, his voice taking on a fatherly tone, almost angry. "Why is that a problem?"

Maureen laughs. "It isn't, but you should see the look on your face right now." She folds her arms. "I can't wait to see you two have a kid, but honestly, you think we all have attitude problems? This one's gonna be part Benson. Just remember that."

"Thanks," Olivia huffs.

"Oh, come off it," Elliot digs, his hands playing at the waistband of her jeans. "You know you can be a real..."

"Ain't gonna make a baby if you're sleeping on the couch, Stabler," she interrupts, raising an eyebrow.

He laughs and kisses her gently. "I think your attitude is sexy," he growls softly.

She turns in his arms and wraps her own around her neck. "I know," she whispers. "You proved that, countless times, in the locker room after heated interrogations."

He smirks against her lips as he kisses her.

"Oh, come on!" Dickie yells, rolling his eyes. "I don't wanna puke all over the pretty tree. Knock it off, huh?"

Breaking apart, they both turn. "I can return your present," Elliot threatens.

Dickie blinks. "Carry on," he mumbles, returning to his game of peek-a-boo with Eli.

Olivia laughs heartily as she falls back into Elliot's embrace. She takes another long look at the tree, and then gazes up at the angel that seems to tell her something she already knows. She smiles, taking Elliot's hands in hers and bringing them down to lay over her stomach.

He kisses her neck and caresses her shirt-covered skin, and somehow he knows, too. He takes a deep breath and smiles, then rests his chin on her shoulder as they both look at the tree.

Next Christmas was going to be absolutely perfect.

**A/N:****Next? ****Next****Christmas,****duh!**


	4. Perfect Christmas Tree, One Shot

**A/N: A year later...they find perfection.**

**DISCLAIMER: Dick Wolf owns SVU and the characters; TStabler© owns the story you're about to read.**

Olivia stands, arms folded, smiling at the fully decorated, lit, evergreen tree in her living room. The events of the evening replay in her mind, and she laughs as she recalls the flying tinsel, the rousing game of catch-the-angel the older kids played, and the way Lizzie wrapped the lights around baby Noah.

Then, as she thinks of her son, something on the tree catches her eye. She reaches out a hand and tilts her head, a silent sigh coming from her grinning lips as she gingerly fingers the little blue ornament, shaped like a Santa hat, with the tiny Mickey Mouse on the side.

She runs the tip of her finger over the rhinestone letters. "Baby's first Christmas," she whispers, a tear falling from her right eye. "It's just…"

"Perfect." Elliot's voice, right in her ear, makes her moan softly. He puts his hands on her shoulders and kisses the back of her head as he squeezes. "This year, it's totally perfect," he whispers to her.

"I can't believe he's already four months old," she says, sinking into his touch. "God, that feels good," she mumbles.

"Why are you so tense?" he asks, squeezing her shoulders harder. "Jesus, honey, it's like you've got anvils on your shoulders."

She scoffs. "Well, I woke up at five because your son was auditioning to be the lead singer of Screamin' Eagle," she snorted. "The rest of your kids had to be in school, three different schools, I might add, by seven. Then I spent the day shopping, cooking, and cleaning while cradling a four month old with a five year old wrapped around my left ankle. Do you know how hard it was to clear out that corner for the tree with Eli hanging on me and Noah clutching my neck?"

He laughs. "Mother of the year, ladies and gentlemen," he teases. He kisses the back of her head again and tugs her body toward him.

"What?" she questions. "Why are we moving?"

He leads her to the couch and, ignoring her questioning look, makes her sit. "Arms up," he says, a chuckle in his voice.

She furrows her brow. "Are you out of your…"

"Liv?" he interrupts.

She rolls her eyes and raises both her arms. He pulls her top off and takes in her form, which has been changed for the better by age and a baby. He lays her down without a sound, sits over her, one leg on either side of her body, and starts pressing his fingers into her back. He stills, then says "Stay, don't move."

She has no intentions of moving, and simply nods as he gets up.

He's only gone for a moment, and he returns with the baby monitor and a small bottle of oil. He drops the monitor into the coffee table and returns to his spot on the sofa, flips the cap on the bottle, and squeezes a small amount into his hand. He tosses the bottle to the side and rubs his palms together, feeling the oil warm immediately, and after a moment he presses his hot palms down onto his wife.

She moans as his hands splay over her back, her head pressed deeper into the couch cushion. "To what do I owe this?"

"Shh," he silences her, his fingers working the muscles of her back into jelly. He runs them lower, kneading her flesh, and he hears her moan again. He bites his lip to keep from grunting, and his hot, greased fingers slip into the elastic of her pajama bottoms.

She smirks, though her eyes are closed and her cheek is pressed into the sofa. "What are you doing?"

He chuckles. "It didn't take much to get your shirt off," he quips, pushing down the flannel pants. "Pants came off just as fast. Kind of like our first…"

"If I kick you, right now, Noah will be our only child," she garbles, nudging his bulge with her foot.

"Just relax," he laughs. He tugs the pants off of her feet and throws them to the floor. His hands slide up her thighs, and he begins to massage each leg, squeezing and rolling her skin.

She feels the rumble of her voice low in her belly as she growls, her legs drift apart a bit, and she's only half consciously listening for the sound of her son from the monitor. "So good," she moans, trying to roll over.

He smiles, his thick fingers pressing harder into her as he runs them up and down her shapely legs. He massages her calves and whispers, "Stay still." Lightly, he skims his fingertips up to her waist and pulls at her panties. He sighs as his palm works under her and he feels the slightly raised scar on her hip. He leans over intending to kiss her back, but she rolls over fast and his lips land on her belly button.

"Explain yourself," she says, her eyes still closed as she runs her fingers through his hair.

"I can't pamper my wife without a reason?" he asks, kissing her stomach again. The slight puff of her figure warms his heart, reminding him that up until four months ago, his child lived there. He nuzzles her stomach and kisses it once more.

She twitches beneath him, feeling his hands work their magic on her front just as he had her back. "El, what's…oh, God, you marvelous man."

He grins and kisses his way up her chest, her neck, her chin, finally landing on her lips. "You've had the day from hell," he whispered, his lips still against hers. "You're going crazy staying at home with the kids, I know you are, and you deserve to have one night to do nothing but lie here and let me love you."

She cups his face and deepens the kiss as his hands work out a tight kink in her side. She moans when she feels one of those hands dip lower, between her legs. "El," she gasps.

"They're all asleep," he whispers back. "They always go right to sleep after the tree goes up. You know that." He flicks the fabric of her underwear lightly, his fingertips inching beneath them.

She kisses him with greater force when his thick digit slips inside of her, her hips buck up and her back arches, all of the tension he'd worked out of her body returns at once.

He adds another finger and wiggles them around inside of her, smirking against the kiss when she relaxes. He feels the motion of her arm, knows where her hand is heading, and he shakes his head. "No, baby," he says softly. "Just relax."

She whines, but submits, and sinks back into the couch as his fingers, which have made her feel nothing less than incredible, bring her to the blessed peak of ecstasy fast. She focuses on his kiss, his taste, his eagerness to do this for her, not wanting anything in return, and she lets go.

He moans softly into her mouth, his fingers working through her release, dragging it out and bringing her down as easily as he can. Beneath him, she melts, she moans, and he feels her lighten. He pulls away from her mouth, lets his fingers slip away from her, and he whispers, "Better?"

She nods, but refuses to let him go. Until she hears the gurgling, then wailing cry of Noah through the tiny white radio. "Okay," she sighs. "Thanks for the short break from reality, El."

He laughs and hands her her pajama top. "I'll get him, you get dressed." He kisses her forehead and gets to his feet, then runs toward the nursery.

She rolls her neck and pulls her clothes back on, the smile still wide on her face, and just when she's dressed completely, she sees him coming toward her, their baby in his arms.

He walks the tiny thing over to the tree, where he meets Olivia, and he says, "Who's that? Is that Mommy?" He laughs at the look on his son's face and kisses Olivia's forehead. "This," he whispers, "Is perfection."

She wraps one arm around Elliot and the other swoops under the baby, and she nods. "Everything is absolutely perfect."

He looks at the tree, spotting the blue ornament that changed their lives a year ago. "Well," he shrugs, "I know, uh, things can always be more perfect than perfect, right?"

She raises an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"

He kisses her, their son nestled snugly between them. He rubs her nose with his and chuckles as he says, "We still have one ornament, unopened, in the box in the attic."

She laughs as she kisses him again. "Yeah, it's gonna stay in that box for a while, El."

"I know," he says, looking down at Noah. "But when it does eventually get put on the tree, we'll know we've beaten perfect."

**A/N: Next…when Olivia stumbles across a kid's letter to Santa, it turns her hatred for Christmas into a mission to save it.**


	5. Winter Wonderland, Part One

**A/N: Even the Grinch learned to love Christmas. **

**DISCLAIMER: Dick Wolf owns SVU and the characters; TStabler© owns the story you're about to read.**

Olivia twists her lips, debating on whether or not she wants to smile at the big, green tree, or light it on fire. She hates her boyfriend for a moment, as she realizes why she's standing in the living room with a cardboard box in her hands.

"You gonna help me, or are you just gonna watch?" he asks, throwing fake snow at her.

She turns her head, and she has to laugh at him. Tinsel is falling from every limb, and the lights are in a tangle around his left ankle. "Are you sure you put one of these up every year? Looks like you need instructions."

"Ha, ha," he quips, reaching for the box she's handing him. "Can you, uh, try to unwrap me, here?"

She carefully twists and turns the silver garland, and whenever their eyes meet she turns away, afraid of blushing. Their relationship has taken a sharp turn, from partner and friend to lover. They are still partners, still the best of friends, but the level of intimacy and deep love that's taken them over for the last eight months is still new to her, and she finds herself wanting to do uncharacteristic things like giggle and flirt with him relentlessly, now that she can.

He grabs her as she reaches for the knotted strand of lights, and his lips land on hers with a smack. Her laughter is music to his ears, and he can't stop his hands from squeezing her ass just a bit as he pulls his mouth away from hers.

She smiles at him, the smile that seems to be permanent when he's around. Then she feels herself in his arms, and she stops breathing. She feels more at home than she ever has, and it frightens her. It excites her. It freezes her and warms her, it comforts her and makes her so damn uncomfortable. She kisses the end of his nose and works out of his hold, untangling the lights that have now wrapped them together. "Better?" she asks with a smirk.

"Thanks," he says, nodding and shaking out his free leg. He smiles at her, and he wishes they had enough time for him to throw her up against the wall and go a few rounds before starting in on the tree. He twitches, thinking that maybe, if they hurry, there'll be enough time after they're done. "Grab a ball, start hanging."

She scoffs. "If you want me to play with your balls, ya gotta ask nicely"

There's a moment of awkward silence as her words resonate. And then he laughs and gives her a playful shove. "Please help me decorate the tree, Liv?" he asks, robotically. "Is that better?"

She nods and chuckles, bending to pick up a few ornaments. When she moves a particularly shiny orb, something in the box grabs her attention. "What's this?" she asks, pulling the folded paper out of the box.

Elliot turns toward her, his eyes widen. "Oh, that's...um...maybe you shouldn't read that." He reaches, but it's too late. He's helpless as he watches her eyes travel across the paper, and when they well up with tears, he knows she's reading every word.

"Did you write this?" she asks, her head lifting to meet his eyes. Though, she knows the answer. He signed it.

"The kids and me, we...we write letters to Santa every year, and we each have to fulfill one wish. I guess, uh, all of our letters kind of...got lost in that box last year," he excuses, clearing his throat.

"El," she breathes. "I don't know what to..."

"So don't say anything," he says firmly, embarrassed and sorry he made her cry again. "Please, don't say anything, and help me with the tree. I want this done before the kids..."

She interrupts him again, though, and pulls his hand away from the box, clutching it. "Did you mean it?" Her eyes search his, she expects him to lie, she expects him to change the subject. She doesn't expect the truth at all.

He sighs as his eyes close. "Every word," he whispers. His palm twists in her hand and he returns her hold. He opens his eyes and to his surprise, she's smiling. He gives her hand a squeeze and says, "We can talk about it later. But, ya know, I don't think there's anything to talk about. You already know."

She laughs and sniffles, nodding. "Yeah," she says, shoving the letter into her pocket. "So you...you didn't read any of the kids' letters last year?"

He scratches his head with his free hand. "Guess not," he shrugs.

She pulls him closer to her, gripping his hand more firmly, and bends down to the same box from which she'd picked his letter. "We should, ya know? Just in case they really wanted something they didn't get because you didn't read them."

"Hey," he chuckles. "No one read my letter and I got what I wanted anyway."

She narrows her eyes at him. "You coulda had it a year ago, you tool."

He pulls her into him, and he growls slightly. "It was a lot of fun chasing you, Benson. If someone just gave you to me, we would have missed out on a lot of fucking..."

"All right," she laughs, rolling her eyes. She stifles a moan as she feels something long, thick, and hard press into her thigh. She knows he doesn't have his gun on him. She kisses him once and says, "Read them. Answer these before you make them write new ones."

He kisses her as he nods, knowing she has a point. "Okay," he grabs the folded notes and leads Olivia to the sofa. "You read Lizzie's, and I'll read Dickie's. It'll go faster."

Olivia takes the letter he's holding out to her, and she reads it. "El, there...did you talk to the kids before you wrote your letter?"

"No, why?" he mumbles, engrossed in his sons note.

Confused, Olivia reaches for another letter. She opens it, her eyes scan the page, and she shakes her head. "All your kids wanted the same thing last year."

He grabs the last letter, the one from his oldest child, and he laughs. "No, Maureen wants a car, so she can drive to...oh. Yeah, I guess they...they all pretty much wanted the same thing."

She runs her fingers through his hair, the pensive look on his face alarming her. "You okay?"

"They didn't handle the divorce very well," he shrugs. "It was almost a year of yelling, fighting, everyone was unhappy. When it was over, I...I promised them we'd go."

"But you didn't," she gathers, still caressing the back of his neck.

He shakes his head. "I told them it would be just us, the whole weekend, to kind of reconnect and forget about the drama and...when we started...I guess...they were starting to think I wasn't taking them." He looks at her.

She smiled at him. "Well, at least now you know they still wanna go."

"But the question is...do you?" he asks, his voice dropping a full octave. He scoots closer to her. "I know you don't really get into Christmas, but...this place, Liv, there's a candy factory, and this glassblower who makes ornaments in any shape you want, and they have this talking tree...well, it's a guy with a microphone in a hollowed out tree, but you will..."

"Are you asking me to take this trip with you and the kids?" she asks, tilting her head.

He kisses her softly. "I wouldn't spend a day at work without you, let alone an entire weekend in the mountains." He tugs lightly on her shirt. "Come with us. How can you not want to go to a place called North Pole?"

She chuckles. "I think they just wanna be alone with their father, El."

"You should come, Liv," a voice says.

Olivia and Elliot turn, their eyes landing on Maureen, standing in the front door. "You're home early," Elliot says, dropping his hand away from Olivia's chest.

Maureen grins. "I only had one final today," she says. "And you don't have to act all weird, ya know, I think after almost a year I know that you two..."

"Okay," Olivia says fast, standing up. "I'm gonna get to work on that tree."

"Are we really going?" Maureen asks, then, smiling at her father.

Elliot bites his lip. "I was gonna tell you guys tonight. This weekend, we're all heading upstate. It's supposed to snow, so it'll be a great time to..."

Maureen rushes into him, hugging him tight. "Thank you," she whispers. "I knew you read our letters."

"Uh, yeah," he says, holding his daughter with closed eyes. He makes a mental note to thank Olivia.

Maureen straightens up. "Liv, really, you belong with us now. Come with us! They have this village of lights thing, and a guy dressed like Santa who walks around pretending to check if you're being naughty or nice, and you two can really give him something to..."

"Hey!" Elliot snaps, shocked. "Mo!"

"Just saying," the young woman shrugs. "And they litter the place with mistletoe." She wags her eyebrows at Olivia.

Elliot chuckles as he gets up from the couch, and he walks over to Olivia by the tree. "You read my letter," he whispers. "You wanna give me what I wanted for Christmas last year, this year?"

"Thought you already had it," she teases, her arms wrapping around his neck.

"Please?" He kisses her, his hands linked at the small of her back. "I'll even spring for an extra room, so when you and I are being naughty..."

She smacks his head playfully as she laughs. "Okay," she nods. "Take me to the North Pole, and convince me how kick-ass Christmas is."

He kisses her again, smirking against her lips, and he makes an unspoken promise to do exactly that.

**A/N: Next: Part Two, a weekend in North Pole, NY (a real place!) that proves that Olivia and Elliot are nice...and equally as naughty.**


	6. Winter Wonderland, Part Two

**A/N: A weekend in a winter wonderland proves to be just what they needed. **

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and characters belong to Dick Wolf. TStabler© owns this story.**

She can smell him from across the room. She smiles as she inhales his wafting scent, his cologne and his aftershave and something that is so uniquely him. "They asleep?" she asks without turning around.

He laughs. "Yeah," he says, shutting the door. "After the day we've had, they came back half-dead." He walks toward her and rests his hands on her shoulders. "What was your favorite part?"

"Oh, uh, ya know when we…all of it," she says, smirking as she turns to face him. "I haven't laughed so hard in my whole life, or as much." She lets her hands slide around his waist.

"I told you," he grins, "Coming up here really gets people into the spirit of Christmas. Even people who have a reason to hate it."

"I never hated it," she says, rolling her eyes. "I just never had a reason to like it. And when my mother died, it…it was so close to Christmas that the whole month of December was ruined for me." She shrugs and her smile fades. Then she laughs. "Man, Maureen wasn't kidding, though. About the mistletoe."

He kisses her for emphasis, with a warm smile on his face and in his eyes. "Every tree branch, every doorway, every ceiling," he lists, chuckling. "And I made sure we walked under each and every berry."

"Yeah, I thought we were taking the long way around the path," she says with a knowing smile. "Taking the detour through Elf Land, that was really just a ploy to find another reason to kiss me?"

"God, when that elf sprang out in front of you and started singing, I thought you were gonna punch him," he chuckles. "You just started singing right along with him." He kisses her again and her laugh resonates through his opened mouth and rings in his ears. "God, I love that sound," he breathes, pulling away from her to look at her face, to relish in the smile he knows is on her lips.

"What?" she asks, tilting her head.

"Your laugh," he whispers. He takes her hand and pulls her, not to the bed, but past it. He opens the sliding glass doors and, though it's freezing, he takes her out onto the deck. "This place," he sighs, looking out at the snow-covered ground and sparkling lights, "Is really special to me."

"I can tell," she says, leaning into him for comfort and warmth. She's letting her eyes wander over the vast winter wonderland, too. "The way you led us through Santa's Workshop, the way your eyes lit up when that glassblower made you an ornament…"

"Shaped like a heart," he chuckles, nodding. "I feel like a kid again, when I'm here. And being with my kids…when I first got the idea to bring them up here, it was to get away from the negativity in the city. To forget about the pain of the divorce." He clears his throat. "But when I took that chance and kissed you for the first time, and you spent more time with us, the pain went away by itself." He looks at her and brushes her hair out of her face, knowing the wind will only blow it back in a moment. "This trip isn't about forgetting anymore. It's about remembering."

She raises an eyebrow at him, unsure of what he means. "El, are you…"

"New memories," he interrupts, his smile bright. "That's what we're making here. This family…needs more good memories, baby." He holds her closer to him, and he blinks when he knows he's about to cry. "I need more good memories."

She cups his face. "Honey, what…"

"You don't get it," he scoffs with a small laugh. "Whenever I think about a single time where I have laughed, when I've felt really happy and relaxed, I was always with you. For years. Last Halloween, when we kissed at that party…I wasn't trying to get over Kathy. You know that don't you? I was trying to make myself happy."

She laughs and shivers against him. "I'm only really happy when I'm with you, too, El."

He kisses her forehead. "Good," he sighs. "It's snowing."

"Really? I thought that was just really fluffy rain," she quips. "I think we've had enough snow for one day, though."

"Oh, don't even…you started that second snowball fight with Kathleen," he says, heading back into their bedroom with her in his arms.

She smirks. "And you can't forget the snowman you made with Dickie and Eli," she says, pushing him down onto the bed. "Or the snowcones, real snow on a cone, that we made."

He laughs and runs his hands up her body, he feels her jerk at the cold touch, and he bites his lip to halt the arousal he's feeling. "We made snow-angels," he whispers. "And you took Eli sledding while the other kids went skiing." He sits up a bit and kisses her. His hands warm as they rest on her back, and he pulls her down so he can flatten out. He wants her desperately, but yet he wants to hold her for a while. Only hold her. He moans, his nails graze her skin. "And we definitely made Santa put us on his naughty list when he caught us…"

"I am so thankful your kids were at that magic show," she laughs against his lips. "They didn't need to see that."

He hums into her mouth as the kiss deepens, and his hands are just about to slip around to the front of her body, when a knock on their door interrupts them.

She looks down at him, kisses him again, and climbs off of him. She opens the door, and she smiles. "What's up, Kid?"

Dickie, holding his little brother's hand, says, "He keeps saying 'Twas the Night,' over and over. I think he needs you to read to him."

Olivia folds her arms. "And you're here because…" she trails off, waiting.

Dickie bites his lip. "Well, uh, it is the night before Christmas, Liv. I wouldn't mind hearing that story."

Kathleen pokes her head out of the room she's sharing with her sisters. "I'll make hot chocolate," she says, her eyes wide.

Olivia turns to Elliot. "Is this another Stabler tradition I'm being forced into?" she chuckles.

Elliot, off the bed now, walks toward her. "I think this might be a new one," he says, wrapping an arm around her. He sees Lizzie and Maureen, up and halfway out of their bedroom. "All right," he sighs. "Everyone in here if…"

Before he can finish his sentence, his kids rush into the room and pile onto the bed, Eli sits expectantly on his brother's lap, and Kathleen runs toward the small kitchen to make the hot cocoa she promised.

"You guys are lucky I know the story by heart," Olivia laughs.

"Well, you read it to Eli enough," Elliot chuckles, kissing her forehead. "Even in the middle of June, he would beg you to read it to him."

"Twas the night!" Eli squeals, bouncing up and down.

Dickie groans and pushes the toddler off of him. "Maybe having you sit on my lap wasn't a good idea, bud," he moans, rolling over onto his stomach.

Elliot laughs and scruffs his hair, then sits on the edge of the bed. He reaches up and grabs Olivia's hand, pulling her into his lap. He kisses a spot on her neck, behind her ear, and moans softly, just for her.

She closes her eyes and wiggles against him just a bit, earning another low moan from him.

"Here we go!" Kathleen shouts, coming into the room with a wooden tray and six mugs of hot chocolate and a sippy cup. "I got regular milk for the squirt," she informs.

Maureen helps pass the mugs around and Eli grabs his sippy cup. "Twas the night!" he shouts, sounding impatient.

Olivia laughs, "All right, all right." She looks up, as if trying to remember. "Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring. Not even a mouse."

As Olivia dictates, the only one really enthralled is Eli. The other kids are taking advantage of her distraction, and they work together to get a small package up to their father without her noticing.

Once the wrapped box is in his hands, he signals them to give him something else.

"All the stockings were hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that Saint Nicholas soon would be there," Olivia recites, poking the toddler's tummy and making him giggle.

The sight warms Elliot's heart, and he knows that what he's about to do is right. "Liv," he says, interrupting her story.

She looks at him, his raised arm catching her attention. She looks up and sees that he has something in his hands, holding it over her head. "You…what's with the mistletoe, Stabler?" she asks. "I think your kids have watched us kiss enough already."

"One more kiss," he whispers. "But uh…I have to tell you something first."

Maureen can't help it, and she laughs. "We all do, actually."

Kathleen bites her lip. "We knew we were coming out here," she says. "We've had this trip planned for months."

"We also, uh…those letters you found…we wrote them a few days before you put the tree up," Lizzie confesses. "We wanted you to really push dad to come out here, and we knew that if you thought we waited…"

"So…wait…" Olivia says, her eyes narrowing. "You all just wanted me to come with you? Why was it so…"

The box that was in Elliot's hand is now in hers. "Open it," he whispers to her. "Open it, and give me another happy memory."

Dickie holds his breath and his little brother as he watches Olivia's shaky fingers tug at the ribbon. "Just don't cry, okay?" he says. "No one cries at the North Pole. Next to Disneyland, it's the happiest place on earth."

Olivia laughs as she finally pulls the paper away from the box. "I suppose you all know what this is?"

"We actually planned the whole thing," Maureen says. "We all wanted to be here for this, and…"

"Eli didn't want me to read to him, huh?" Olivia interrupts, catching on.

Dickie chuckles. "Not until he heard me talking about the story, no."

Olivia laughs again, and she looks at Elliot, who looks slightly ill. "Are you…"

"I'm fine," he cuts her off. "Just open the box."

She turns her head and looks down, flips the lid to the small box open, and her face brightens. Her bottom lip starts to tremble.

"Oh, come on," Dickie moans. "I asked you not to cry."

"Liv," Elliot says, nudging her. "Will you…"

Her lips crash into his, the force knocks him off of the bed, but she follows, landing on top of him on the floor. "Yes," she moans between kisses.

Maureen pulls her phone out of her pocket, holds it up, and clicks a few buttons. "Aw," she sighs, looking at the picture she's just taken.

The other kids cram around the phone, and the smile at the photo of their father and his new fiancée, caught in a kiss under the mistletoe, in front of the glass doors. The snow falls behind them, making it look like they're out in the storm. It is a truly special moment captured on film, a memory preserved.

"And to all a good night!" Eli shouts, sipping his milk.

Olivia pulls her lips away from Elliot's and turns toward the child. "Guess he couldn't wait for the happy ending."

"Well," Elliot laughs, pulling her left hand toward his face. "Like father, like son," he quips, sipping the ring onto her finger. "I couldn't wait for my happy ending either."

She smiles and shakes her head. "Merry Christmas, baby," she says softly, kissing him again.

And he holds her down to him, one hand around her neck and the other around her waist. As he kisses her he thinks about their weekend, and he knows. Here in what truly is a magical wintry wonderland, it's the best Christmas of his life, and he can't wait to try and top it next year.

**A/N: Next, a little game of hide and seek leads Elliot to much more than hidden Christmas presents. **


	7. Hidden Presents, One Shot

**A/N: Christmas Eve. If you're naughty, there's still time for Santa to take back your presents.**

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and characters belong to Dick Wolf. Story? That's all TStabler's**

"Hey, El?" she shouts, hoping to stop him from looking through the hall closet. "Remember when you said you'd give me a kidney?"

He drops the shoeboxes he had just grabbed and as they scatter across the floor he panics. "What? Why. Liv? You need a kidney? What's the matter? Why?"

She can't help but laugh at him, and she shakes her head. "No, you goofball, I was just going to say..."

"Fuck," he spits, picking up the boxes, interrupting her. "Don't do that to me! Jesus!" His hand is over his heart, and he has to remind himself to breathe. "You almost gave me...no I think you actually did give me heart attack!"

"Sorry," she chuckles. Then she tilts her head and watches as he puts the boxes away, but moves the clothes. "You're not gonna find it, El, will you stop..."

He holds up a hand and closes the closet door. "I know you," he says, "You've had my Christmas present since March, it's here somewhere, and I am gonna find it."

"God, can't you just wait until tomorrow?" she says with a roll of her eyes. "It's almost midnight, it's not even like you'd be waiting that long!"

"Nope," he says, wandering into the bedroom. "Can't wait. Sorry," he yells to her.

Sighing, she rises off the couch and follows after him. She folds her arms and leans against the doorframe. "You're cold," she says.

He hums and moves to his left and reaches for a dresser drawer.

She chuckles. "You're in Antarctica now," she quips.

He turns and narrows his eyes at her. Then he looks around the room. "Under the bed," he mumbles, and he heads for the mattress.

"Warmer," she teases, walking into the room. She closes the door and tiptoes over to the bathroom. "You're getting hot, El. Smoking!" she says, her hand reaching for something in the small linen closet. She laughs to herself as he crawls under the bed. "Oh, fire's out. Back to being cold."

"Damn it, Liv," he yells from the floor. "Where did you hide it this year?" He slides out from under the wooden base board, and he runs a hand down his face. Then he sees her. His eyes widen and his throat closes up.

"I didn't hide anything," she says, a sultry smile on her face. She walks toward him slowly, purposely swaying her hips.

He blinks. "You look...wow," is all he can muster. His hand inches toward the white marabou trim on the see-through red teddy that barely covers her perfect body. He tugs on it as he gazes up at her.

She swats his hand away, narrows her eyes, and backs up a few steps. "Uh, I'm not getting on the floor. Do you have any idea how much this thing cost?" She makes her way to the bed, raises an eyebrow, and crooks her finger at him as she crawls onto the mattress. "Come here," she teases. "Don't you wanna open your present?"

He is on his feet and on the bed in seconds. He slinks over her like a hungry lion, glaring at her as if she is his prey. "So this is my..."

"No," she interrupts, shaking her head. "This is just your Christmas Eve present. Your real gift is somewhere you're never gonna find it."

He smirks. "Using sex to distract me from looking for my present," he mutters. "Smart girl." He watches her smile and he smirks back as he kisses her with a growl. He sucks on her bottom lip for a moment, nibbles at her tongue, then pulls away.

Her mouth tingles, her breath is ragged. "What are you..."

"I just wanna..." he pants, but he stops there. His eyes travel over her body, his fingers trace the outline of the red nylon, and he lets out a soft gasp when he skims over the cups of her red silk bra, visible beneath the transparent lace. "You are so fucking perfect," he tells her softly.

She whimpers as both of his thumbs swipe over her peaked nipples, she sucks her lip into her mouth and bites hard to keep from moaning too loudly.

He rises to his knees and, though he hates to, he pulls his hands away from her body. He yanks his shirt off, over his head, and tosses it to the floor. He sees her face brighten and he knows she's staring at his arms. His chest.

She doesn't hide her arousal, and she reaches for him. Her fingertips run over his chest, she moans as she feels his muscles twitch at her touch. She lets her eyes travel up to his, and she smirks at him.

He lets out that feral growl again, bending over to capture her mouth in another hot kiss. As he nips and suckles, moaning into her mouth, his hands fight with the denim of his jeans. He sighs in relief when he feels them fall over his hips, and he kicks them off to join his shirt at the foot of the bed.

She arches her back when his fingers tug at her nipples, and she gathers that he's successfully shed his clothes. The cold breeze from the open window hits her, giving her goose bumps and making her shiver, and she feels Elliot laugh against her lips. "What?" she breathes.

As an answer, he twists her hard nipples in between his thumbs and index fingers. He moans again, kisses her a little deeper, a little rougher. "Cold?" he asks.

"It's snowing," she tells him, and she turns her head toward the window, the curtains blowing in the wind.

He shakes his head and nudges her chin, getting her to look back at him. "I'll keep you warm," he says with a grin, and his lips claim hers again.

She feels his hands move, they slip up underneath the teddy, and she feels him grip the sides of the red silk panties she's wearing. She moans lowly as he slides them over her hips and she raises her legs to make it easier for him to take them off of her completely without breaking their kiss. She loves kissing him too much to stop.

He remains firmly pressed against her lips as he skates his hands back up her legs, taking his time, inching toward her core. He knows she's throbbing, he knows she's dripping, and he knows that if he goes slow enough, she'll beg. But once his hands reach her upper thighs, he feels the heat radiating and he can't wait for her to ask him to touch her.

"El," she moans as his fingers push inside of her. She rocks her hips against his hand, trying to take him deeper, whimpering when he pulls them away. "El, baby," she pleads, her eyes boring into his.

"My present," he says, running his slick fingers up and down her slit, teasing her. "I will play with it how I want, as long as I want." He pushes a finger back into her and twists it slowly before taking it out. His eyes never leave hers.

She arches her back again as he climbs onto her, keeping her nestled between his legs. She moans when he thrusts his fingers faster, and her eyes roll backward.

He moves his hand, and he slowly pushes the red, Santa-esque lingerie up over her head. He dips his head and, through the red silk, he sucks on one of her pert nipples. He busies his hands with the task of unhooking the bra, eager to taste the salty-sweet skin he's so close to.

She sits up a bit to give him access to the clasp, and she helps him get the straps down over her arms. She holds her breath as she stares at him, staring at her. She bites her lip, but he presses his thumb to her mouth.

"No," he whispers. "Don't you dare do that. You are...I'm just...you're gorgeous." He swipes the pad of his thumb along the length of her smile, and when she kisses it, he moans. He slides both hands up to her neck, wrapping them around the back of it, and he holds her intense gaze as he thrusts his hips and inches his way inside of her.

Her nails start their descent down his back, her lips curl, as do her toes. She tries to keep her eyes open for him, and a soft moan escapes. She hears the wind blowing through the window, she knows there's probably a small pile of snow on the bedroom floor, but she's not cold anymore.

He stops moving, his skin flush against hers, and he rocks getting just a bit deeper. They moan together, and he drops his head, pressing it to hers. He whispers something into her ear, then kisses her as he moves, in and out, slowly, feeling every movement.

She hold him tight as they move, her body meeting each one of his thrusts and her nails dragging down his back. "Not if I gave you mine first," she whispers to him, her smile soft, her eyes sparkling.

He chuckles as he moves faster, harder, bringing them closer and closer to the edge. "I love you," he growls out, the sweat forming on his working body. He slides his palm over her leg, wraps it over her knee, and pulls upward, earning a cry of his name from her.

Her hands dig into his shoulder blades, she whimpers and starts to tremble beneath him, and she feels her body start to burn. "El," she moans, "Oh, my God."

He grumbles something she can't understand as his feet press into the mattress. His hands find leverage on her body and he moves even harder, unwilling to give in or give up without one hell of a fight. He kisses her and with three last hits, he spills inside of her and moans her name against her lips.

She holds him as she shakes, calming down as he finishes. She kisses his lips, his chin, his shoulders, and she says, "I gotta wear that thing more often."

He laughs, and he looks at her. "It wasn't just the Santa outfit," he says, breathing heavily. "It was the woman wearing it." He kisses her. "You could lure me into bed wearing a paper bag."

She chuckles and kisses him. "It's officially Christmas Day," she tells him, nodding at their bedside table and the clock flashing bright red numbers. "You want me to give you your present now, Mister Impatient?"

He kisses her as he rolls them over, and he sighs. "I can wait," he tells her. "I'm really comfortable right now."

She nods but she shivers. "I'm not," she says softly. "Can you..."

"I got it," he laughs, pulling away from her.

As she watches him move to wall, to close the window, she smiles. "Hey, El?"

"What, baby?" he returns, crawling back into the bed and pulling her into his arms.

She kisses him and snuggles into his body as much as she can. "Merry Christmas."

With a grin, he thinks of his own hidden away present for her, and he says, "Merry Christmas, honey."

**A/N: Up next, the annual precinct Christmas party, some spiked egg nog, and a spilled secret!**


	8. Where's All The Rum Gone, One Shot

**A/N: Christmas at the One-Six is always eventful.**

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and characters belong to Dick Wolf. Story? That's all TStabler's**

"Look at them," Fin spits, shaking his head. "Under that mistletoe, kissin' like they're alone. Man, people are watchin' and they ain't even tryin' to make it look like they don't want to tear each others..."

"Jealous?" Munch asks, smirking. He takes a sip of his egg nog. "Of him or her?"

Fin glares at his partner. "Shut up," he huffs. He takes a sip of his own milky drink, and makes a face. "How much rum is in this shit?"

"Not enough," Munch says, getting out of his seat. "I am gonna go get another one of these. You really want them to stop kissing like that, bring them a drink."

Fin blinks, watching the older gentleman walk away, then he smiles. He gets up, and he grabs two glasses of egg nog off of a tray as he walks over to the pair, still attached at the lips under the mistletoe. "Hey," he calls to them.

"Go away," the man mumbles, his lips firmly pressed against those of the woman in his arms.

Fin taps the guy on the shoulder. "I brought you..."

"Busy," he mumbles again, earning a laugh from his lover.

"Stabler, man!" Fin yells, pulling him away from the brunette that, up until now, had his undivided attention. "You two are...everyone is starin' at you, man!" He thrusts the two mugs into Elliot's hands. "Come up for air for a minute."

Elliot laughs and hands the woman to his right a mug. He takes a sip, coughs, and looks at her. "Don't drink that!"

She raises an eyebrow. "Okay," she says, a sing-song lilt in her voice.

He narrows his eyes and makes her smell it, and when she grimaces, he says, "That's why." He hands her drink back to Fin. "Thanks, but...she can't drink that. Do they have anything less...ya know what? Can you get her a Sprite for me?" He shoves his hand into his pocket.

"I got it," Fin barks, rolling his eyes. "Ya know, you shouldn't even be here, Elliot. You don't work here anymore so..."

"I came with her," Elliot interrupts, wrapping an arm around the woman he'd been kissing.

"I see that," Fin hisses. "Everyone in the room sees that."

Elliot smirks. "Exactly," he says, then he turns his head. "So, what do ya say, Liv? Think they miss me around here?"

She rolls her eyes and chuckles. "I do," she says, her fingers playing with his red tie. "Fin...not so much."

"I got that," he says, kissing her again. "He's right, though. Maybe we should mingle."

"Mingling," she says with a nod. "That can be good. I can introduce you to..."

"Olivia!" a man yells. He walked toward her, pulling a leggy blonde along with him.

She turns her head and tries to smile. "Them," she says, clearing her throat. "Nick, Amanda, this is..."

"Elliot Stabler," Nick says, holding out his hand. "She doesn't shut up about you."

"You must be Nick Amaro," Elliot says, shaking his hand. "She's told me a lot about you, too." He hides the snicker that he knows is threatening to come out.

"Yeah," Nick says. "This is..."

"Amanda Rollins," the blonde says with a polite nod. "I can introduce myself, thanks. Pleasure to meet you."

Olivia scratches at her head as she tilts it toward Elliot. "Elliot and I were...we were just...um...there was the mistletoe..."

"Oh, we saw what you were doing," Nick chuckles. "We just wanted to know if this was Elliot, because...honestly, the way you drone on about him, it couldn't have been anyone else."

"Is she why you left?" Amanda asks, her eyes narrowing slightly but her smile broad. "That's so romantic. Quitting for love. You wanna be with your partner, but you know you can't. You give up your job so you can have her in every other way."

Nick hears severity in her words and clears his throat. "Could also be that girl he shot," he says, changing the mood. "He feels like an embarrassment to the badge, can't look at the squad room the same way. Not everything has a noble cause, Rollins."

"Actually," Elliot says, squinting at Nick, "It was both. But if you could keep that to yourselves, I would..."

"Oh," Olivia breaks in, pulling on Elliot's hand, "We're being beckoned." She nods at Nick and Amanda, then pulls Elliot over to Cragen, who had waved them over.

"Hey, Cap," Elliot says, hugging the man in the most manly way he can. "Can I still call you that?"

Cragen nods with a smile. "Of course," he says. He leans closer to Elliot as Olivia starts a conversation with someone else. "One question, though, before we make with the Christmas niceties. What I saw over there...I take it you and Kathy..."

"It's been months, Cap," Elliot says, lowering his voice. "Kathy moved out a few weeks after..." he paused. "But, uh, it's amicable. She's being great with me and the kids, and that...that was just...we were under the mistletoe, and ya know, we're both single, so...I mean, it's Liv." He shrugs, at a loss.

"Right," Cragen interrupts. "Is it weird being here without a shield? As a civilian?" he asks. There's a hidden threat in his words.

But before Elliot can answer, the room is silenced by the squeal of microphone feedback. "What the hell..." Elliot starts, rubbing his right ear, and taking hold of Olivia's wrist with his left hand.

"Is this thing on?" Munch asks, tapping the head of the mic. He'd just pushed the singer of the band out of the way, and he holds up his drink. "Merry Christmas," he shouts into the microphone. "I'm Jewish, but that doesn't mean you all can't have a Merry Christmas."

"Oh, my God," Olivia says, biting her lip.

"Someone needs to get him down from there," Elliot laughs.

Fin steps up beside him, hands him Olivia's clear soda, and says, "It ain't gonna be me. I've waited all night for him to start this shit."

Elliot chuckles and gives Olivia her drink with a wink. "Caffeine free," he whispers.

She gives his hand a squeeze, but her attention is drawn back to Munch. "Dear Lord," she moans, rolling her eyes.

"Every year, we have this party...all of us...cops and...coppettes," Munch says, then sips his drink. "The egg nog is always spiked, but no one ever notices or cares, and all of our inhibitions go out the window." He scratches his head and continues. "We are so nice to each other on Christmas, at this thing, that we tend to get a little too honest and just...overshare."

"What is he talking about?" Olivia asks, leaning into Elliot.

Elliot shrugs. "No fucking idea," he mutters.

Munch laughs as he sips his drink again. "Do you know how much shit we find out about each other at this little shin-dig? Shit that, if we ever told anyone else, could mean the end of the world for some of us?"

"No," Elliot gasps with a realization, and he tries to make his way to the front of the room.

"Take my partner," Munch says, gesturing toward Fin. "If anyone ever found out he had the hots for Benson over there, and Warner over there, and Novak, who isn't here tonight because she has a life...he'd be pretty pissed off."

"You don't even know," Fin mumbled under his breath, seething.

Munch laughs, seeing his face. "Yeah! Pissed! See?" He ignores the drummer's attempt to get him away from the mic. "And then of course, we stand around and pretend to be nice to people we can't stand the other three-hundred some-odd days of the year. Like Elliot Stabler!" he yells. "Makes one mistake and takes off like a bat outta hell, breaks his partner's heart, and has the balls to walk back in here eight months later like nothing ever happened. But, since it's Christmas, we all smile and hug him and shake his God damned hand. Granted, we do love the guy, so maybe that was a bad example..."

"John, man," Elliot yells, still trying to push through the crowd. "Stop!"

Munch ignores the shout and looks out at the otherwise speechless crowd. "Speaking of Elliot's partner...old partner...new partner...there she is," he points to Olivia, who tries to hide behind Cragen. "No, no, now...don't hide that pretty little face of yours." He sips his egg nog again. "Olivia...is the most genuine person in this entire precinct. She is loyal to a fault, she's compassionate to the extreme, and she is one fine female specimen," he says.

There are some whoops and hollers from the on-lookers, and Elliot finally makes it to the stage with anger in his eyes. "Munch! Man, do not do this!"

"Hey, If I were Stabler, I would have left to be with her, too," Munch says, wagging his finger. "At least Elliot left to get his girl, unlike those two over there. I would check the security tapes, later, if I were you, Cap." He laughs as Amanda and Nick look on, mortified.

Elliot takes a step toward him. "John, would you please..."

"I got a point, Stabler," Munch interrupts, glaring at Elliot. "Would ya let me make it?" He turns back to the crowd. "It's Christmas Eve, fellow cop-types! And in the midst of all the pretension, and disingenuous behavior, I would like to give the first joyous toast of the evening to a woman who truly deserves it." He raises his glass. "Olivia Benson, on this, the night of Jesus' birth in that little town of Bethlehem, I want to wish you all of the love, happiness, and joy in the world as you await a birth of your own. Congratulations, to both you and Elliot. You're gonna be a wonderful mother." He hiccups. "Just keep the baby away from Fin."

"Baby?" Fin questions, shocked, turning to her.

Cragen looks at her, too, his brow furrowed. "What baby?"

Olivia hears them both, but she doesn't look at them. Instead, her eyes are glued to the man who has pulled Munch away from the mic, and taken it for himself. Elliot.

"Yeah," Elliot sighs, running a hand through his hair. "That...that's why I've been ignoring most of you all night." He clears his throat. "We parked ourselves under the mistletoe and used it as an excuse to just...I was just...lost...in her. In her eyes, in her smile, in the way she looks tonight. She is..." he shakes his head and looks right at her. "You are so beautiful."

She smiles at him, a tear falls slowly down her face, and she hopes no one notices.

"You're having a baby, my baby," he says, still directed only to her. "And Munch may be drunk off his ass, but he's right. You're gonna be a wonderful mother." He smiles. "And we should probably keep the baby away from Fin."

She laughs as she watches him jump off the stage, and she doesn't have time to process what's happening as he runs to her and lifts her into his arms.

Their friends and colleagues clap and whistle, Cragen smiles sadly as he realizes he is about to lose the remaining half of the best team he's ever had, and Fin slinks away to the back of the room, where Munch has taken refuge. "I'm gonna kill ya," Fin fumes.

"Are not," Munch says, waving a filled cup at him.

Fin pulls the drink away from him. "You've had enough," he spits. "Ya know...I do not have the hots for Novak!"

Munch laughs, then hits Fin in the arm. "It wasn't about outing you as a horny bastard, Fin, it was about that," he says, nodding to Olivia and Elliot, kissing in the middle of the room. "They were never gonna tell anyone," he shrugged. "Not until they had to, ans since he's not part of this unit anymore, it would have taken forever. It's Christmas, they deserve..."

"Yeah," Fin sighs, then he smiles. "You drunk son of a bitch," he laughs. "You have no idea what you said, do you?"

"Not a damned clue," Munch says, chugging back the rest of his drink. "On the plus side, Melinda's been staring at you ever since I told everyone you dig her."

Fin looks from Olivia and Elliot, to Melinda Warner, who is, in fact, staring at him. "I owe ya one, Munch."

Munch nods, and he puts down his empty glass. He grins at his handiwork, watching Fin and Melinda flirt, and he leans over to the bartender. "You keep the non-alcoholic thing between you and me, pal, got it?"

"Anything you say, Detective," the bartender says with a smile as he wipes down the bar.

Taking one last look at the four people who look incredibly happy, he stands and he heads for the door. "Merry Christmas," he says to no one, and he leaves, happy.

**A/N: Next: A 1-6 Secret Santa...with a twist.**


	9. Secret Santa Switch, One Shot

**A/N: A surprising twist to an annual Secret Santa.**

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and characters belong to Dick Wolf. Story? That's all TStabler's**

"Okay," Munch says, shaking a small coffee cup in his hands. "You all know how this works, right?"

Olivia rolls her eyes as she scribbles her name on a piece of paper. "We do this every year," she gripes. "I think we got it by now."

"Well, just in case," Munch begins, "You all write your name on a slip of paper, fold it up, and toss it in this cup."

Fin grumbles, "Then we watch you shake it like a loon, then we pick out a name."

Elliot scoffs. "And then," he sighs, "We have to buy, find, or make a gift for that person and deliver it to them by tomorrow night. Christmas Eve."

Munch huffs. "Well, damn," he spits, "Guess you do know." He holds the cup out to Elliot. "Give."

"Here," Elliot says, dropping his folded name into the styrofoam. He watches as Olivia tosses hers in, grinning, and then as Fin throws his in with a scowl on his face.

Munch walks over to everyone, and one by one they drop their papers into the cup. He stands still, and he shakes it, then makes the rounds again so each person can draw a name.

Elliot takes one and unfolds it, then he chuckles. "Nice," he says to himself, folding the paper again. He slips it into his pocket and looks across his desk at his partner. "You look confused," he whispers. "Get someone you don't know?"

Olivia shakes her head, her eyes glues to the paper in her hand. "No," she says, "It's not that. It's just...I think someone..." she pauses and raises her voice. "Hey, did anyone get their own name?"

There are general murmurs of "no," "uh-uh," and "nope, sorry," as every cop and lawyer in the room unfolds their papers.

She looks back down and bites her lip. How the hell did she draw her own name? She shakes her head and shoves the paper into the top drawer of her desk, and gets back to work.

Elliot eyes her, wondering what happened, and sighs as he, too, picks up a file and starts in on the seemingly endless mountain of paperwork. Then something hits him, a realization, and he lifts his head.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asks him, not looking up from her file.

"Like what?" he asks, clearing his throat.

She looks up at him. "El?"

He smiles. "Come out with me, tomorrow night, after work," he whispers to her. "Lemme buy you a Christmas Eve drink."

She bites her lip, thinking. "Yeah," she nods. "I don't have any other plans. I just...I need to get that Secret Santa thing out of the way afterward." She rolls her eyes and goes back to work, a bit more energy in her writing than before.

He returns to the folder in his hand, but his mind is now on his own Secret Santa draw. He knows exactly what he wants to get, and exactly how to get it.

* * *

><p>"Damn, El," Olivia gasps, opening the door to his apartment after their night at the bar. "It looks like Christmas threw up in here!" She looks around at the festive garland hanging along the walls, the stockings hanging on the mantle, the large and heavily embellished tree in the corner, and she turns to him. "Admit it," she says. "You're an elf."<p>

He laughs as he hangs his coat on the hook. "No," he tells her, "I just love Christmas, and we spent last night in your apartment, not a single decoration in sight, so tonight, I wanna be festive."

"Oh," she rolls her eyes, "Festive is not the word for this, El." She sighs as she sits on his couch. "So you take me to O'Malley's, get me halfway to drunk, and instead of taking me home you made me come back here because...?"

"Because," he says, sitting next to her, "It's Saturday." He thinks, his slightly inebriated mind churns, and he bites his lip. "We always...I mean, lately we've been...Saturday's with us...since we don't have to work tomorrow I..."

"But it's Christmas Eve," she interrupts. "It's almost midnight. You still need to get ready for tomorrow, the kids are coming home, and you need to get that stupid Secret Santa..."

"About that," he cuts her off, scooting closer.

"What?" she breathes. He's so close to her, she can smell the beer on his lips, the aftershave he splashes on every morning, the slight musk that forms after a day of running and hitting things. She stops herself from moaning, and she looks into his eyes, and that's when she remembers her own Secret Santa task. She realizes she only has an hour left to get what she wants.

Elliot leans a bit closer to her, his heart pounding harder as he stares at her. "When you asked if anyone got their own name...I may have...um..." He blinks. "I got myself."

She squints. "Why didn't you tell..."

"Because, Liv," he stops her. "I knew that you were only asking because you must have gotten your own name, too," he explains. "I knew you'd ignore it, but I...I really wanted to get myself something tonight. It's...it's the reason I haven't taken you home yet."

"Your present to yourself...is hanging out with me?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

He runs a hand down his face. "My present to myself...is...did you look at the stockings over there?" he asks. "I mean, really look at them? There's one for me, one for each of my kids, and one for you. You, Liv. Doesn't that mean anything to you? We've been inseparable for years, but since my divorce, we've been attached at the hip. What I want for Christmas is..."

She stops him with a kiss, and she instantly regrets it. She pulls away from him, her eyes wide, and she presses her lips together. "I'm sorry," she whispers, "I don't know why I did that."

Stunned, he is silent and still, his large, blue eyes focused on her. And then he smiles, his eyes light up even more, and he cups her chin. "I do," he whispers. "I've wanted to kiss you for...years. Every night, with you, I tried, but..." he shakes his head, moving back toward her. He kisses her again and his left hand twists around to hold her neck, to keep her from pulling away again.

She moans against his lips, her heart and body both reacting way too strongly to his kiss. "El," she mumbles, his tongue brushing over her lips. She gasps, letting him in, and she moans again.

He returns her moan with a soft grunt, and he moves up a bit, rising off the couch. He pulls off his tie with his right hand, keeping his lips and left hand where they are. He chuckles when he feels her move, and risks opening just one eye to see what she's doing.

She tugs her jacket off, knowing this is spiraling out of control, this is her present to herself. This is what that last beer at O'Malley's gave her the guts to do, and this is all she really wants for Christmas. She hears the garment drop to the floor and she moves her hands toward Elliot's shirt, moaning as she fingers the buttons.

He bites at her bottom lip, moving again, knowing she will follow him. He growls as he runs his tongue along her teeth, then battles with her for control of the kiss as they fight with zippers and snaps and cuffs.

She laughs a bit, into his mouth, as she realizes they're heading toward his bedroom, dropping a trail of clothes along the way. When her back hits the door, she groans.

He bucks his hips, rubbing against her. Nothing but a thin bit of satin and slip of cotton stands between his flesh and hers, and it makes his body ache. He cups her face again, slowing his kiss. He keeps her pinned against the door, his hands trail down her neck and chest and he gasps when his thumbs brush over her satin-shielded nipples.

She gasps, then, too, and her fingers grip his waist. She moves one hand behind her, grasps the brass doorknob, and turns it.

He presses into her when the door opens, and he groans as they move slowly toward the bed. "Liv," he pants, pulling away from her mouth for the first time since he kissed her on the couch. "Liv, I...please don't think I brought you here for this. I mean, this isn't what I wanted, I wanted to tell you..."

She tilts her head, her face is flushed, her lips are red and wet and aching with the remains of his kiss. Her chest is heaving and her hair is tousled, but none of that phases her as she stands before him in her underwear. "What?" she prods, his silence alarming her.

He shakes his head, at a loss for words, and his fingers lightly graze over the red satin of her panties. "He shakes his head, at a loss for words, and his fingers lightly graze over the red satin of her panties. "You did decorate for Christmas," he teases, smirking.

She smiles. "I was hoping...when you asked me to get a drink with you...I wore this tonight because I thought maybe we'd end up..." she takes a breath and decides on honesty. "I want this, El. I want you. You are my present to myself, this Christmas." She bites her lip.

He smiles as he runs his thumbs over her nipples again. "And this little, red, thing, this is your present to me, right?"

"Actually," she chuckles, "I got you flying lessons." She looks into his eyes. "But I did wear this, hoping you'd see it."

His eyes darken and he shakes his head, licking his lips. "You," he growls, giving her a playful shove, "Are one present I am going to take my time unwrapping."

She laughs as he moves lower on her body, taking the satin waistline of her panties between his teeth.

He hears her moan, and he knows she's loving it as much as he is. He pulls the thin fabric down, over her thighs, the scent of her arousal filling his lungs as he breaths her in. He rises to his knees with another growl and pulls the red satin out of his mouth.

She laughs at him when he throws it over his head and she sighs. "El, this is..."

"I know," he whispers, growing serious. He shoves off his holly-patterned boxers, then crawls over her. He looks down into her eyes, taking slow, deliberate breaths as he flips open the front clasp of her bra. "This changes everything."

She nods and moves for him, helping him pull the garment off of her. "Do you want..."

"More than anything," he says softly, and his lips claim hers again. "Look up," he tells her, nuzzling her nose.

Her eyes travel from his face to the ceiling, and she laughs heartily at the bit of mistletoe hung directly above his bed. "You are a piece of work, you know that?"

He shrugs. "You aren't the only one who hoped we'd end up here tonight." He grins and kisses her, and when he feels her arms wrap around his neck, he knows.

He has her now, and he's never letting her go.

**A/N: Next: A holiday mishap lands one of the Stabler kids in the emergency room, sending everyone from Christmas Dinner to the hospital... and while they're there, the unexpected happens.**


	10. Emergency Christmas, One Shot

**A/N: A terrible, horrible, no good, very bad, Christmas...that ends with a sweet surprise.**

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and characters belong to Dick Wolf. Story? That's all TStabler's**

Olivia, carrying a crying toddler, runs through the doors of Mercy General's Emergency Room. She looks around for a moment, trying to zone in on the nearest doctor, and she grabs one. "Hey!" she barks, "I need your help."

The man in white spins around, stunned. "Oh! Detective Benson! No one called...is this your son?"

"I'm not here on business, obviously," she snaps, hiking Eli up further in her arms. "We had a few..."

A group of people runs toward her, chattering loudly and cutting her off, and Elliot puts an arm around her. "Okay," he breathes, looking at the doctor. "We got a burn," he points to Kathleen, "A possible broken ankle," he points to Lizzie, "And a cut that we think needs stitches but she's too stubborn to admit it," he jerks his head toward Olivia."

"My cut isn't that bad," she tells at him. "Can we just worry about the kids, please?"

The doctor, overwhelmed, shakes his head. "Okay, uh, hold on. It's Christmas Day, and we're kind of short staffed. Can you all just...have a seat...over there? Except you," he takes Lizzie's arm. "Let's get you down to X-Ray."

Kathy, already aggravated enough, yells, "I'm coming with you!" and follows her hobbling daughter and the nervous looking doctor.

Olivia sits, sighing, and her eyes wander around to everyone that should be at the table eating Christmas dinner as they sit, too. "I'm sorry," she whispers.

Elliot lifts Eli off of Olivia's lap, kissing the calmed boy's head as he plops him down. "For what?" he asks. He looks at Olivia's hand, and takes it in his. "You should have this looked at," he tells her, lifting the paper-towel away from the sliced skin of her finger.

She shakes her head. "Just get Kathleen and Lizzie checked out. Maybe we can make it back home before midnight and save Christmas somehow. I'll take a taxi back to the station, so you don't have to deal..."

"Uh, that's not gonna happen," he interrupts. "It's your house, too, baby. Besides, you didn't do any of this, Liv."

"I may or may not have permanently scarred you daughter's left leg!" she snaps, her heart breaking. "El, I..."

"You heard Lizzie scream from outside, you dropped the pot. Kathleen got in the way. It was an accident!" He shakes his head and kisses her softly. "You always blame yourself for things that..."

"I'm used to getting blamed for things I didn't do," she gripes, cutting in. "Like making my mother's life hell, ruining your marriage, getting you and Fin written up at work, did I mention ruining your marriage?"

His eyes soften and he can't help but chuckle. "Kathy, huh?" he says, knowingly. "What did she say to you?"

"Oh, nothing," she begins. "Just that I shouldn't even be at your place for Christmas since it was a 'family' holiday, it's the first Christmas after the divorce was finalized and it's insensitive of me to flaunt our relationship in front of her so soon, how dare I cook lasagna instead of turkey..."

"Oh, honey," he laughs, stopping her. He nuzzles her nose, then brushes his own against her chin and neck. "She was trying to push your buttons. You've spent Christmas with us for years, right? It's just...this time...it wasn't as my partner, or my friend. She hates that." He kisses a soft spot behind her ear. "And I love your lasagna. I asked you to make it because honestly, there's only so much turkey a guy can eat. If she wants to blame anyone for anything, it should be me, because I had to twist your fucking arm to go on a date with me, and once you did...we moved a little fast, but you didn't ruin anything."

She closes her eyes and leans her head onto his shoulder. "It's Christmas," she says. "The first one in a long time that I was actually excited about, looking forward to, and we're spending it in the emergency room."

Elliot narrows his eyes. "But we're still all here, together, right?" he questions. "I'll be right back, I gotta make a phone call." He slides Eli, now sleeping, back onto Olivia's lap, and he smiles as the boy snuggles closer to her. He rises from his seat and runs to the triage desk, hoping his plan will work.

Fifteen minutes later, Olivia sits up and raises an eyebrow. "What?" she asks, seeing the gleam in his eyes.

Elliot ignores her and instead, looks at his older son. "Help me move this table over," he commands.

Dickie, shrugging, gets out of his seat and grabs one end of the table. He lifts, with his father, and they move the large wooden surface into the middle of the waiting room. "What's going on, Dad?"

"Move all these magazines, huh?" Elliot returns, grabbing a handful. He tosses them on a much smaller table in the corner.

"Detective Stabler?" the doctor calls, interrupting the sudden and frantic furniture rearranging. "Your daughter's ankle isn't broken, just sprained. Your wife..."

"Ex-wife," he corrects, as if it mattered to the doctor.

The man smiles. "Either way, she's bringing Lizzie out now. I gave her crutches and pain-killers. Keep her off of it for two weeks." He looks around the waiting room, points to Kathleen, and says, "Let's have a look at that leg, okay?"

Kathleen takes a deep breath, nods, and gets up. She limps over to the doctor, turns to glance at her father, than Olivia, and tries to smile. "Be right back," she says, then walks through the doors to an exam room.

Elliot nods, then he turns. Biting his lip, he scratches his head and looks around. "Okay, uh, those chairs..." he gestures to a few seats in a far corner, "We gotta move them."

"Elliot," Olivia says, watching him and Dickie lift and stack the metal seats. "What are you doing?"

He smiles at her. "Just trust me," he says with a firm nod. His cell phone rings, he pulls it out of his pocket, looks at it, then answers it as he leaves the room, running through the doors leading outside.

Olivia looks at Dickie. "Do you know what's going on?"

"Not a clue," the teen shrugs.

Maureen, flipping through a magazine, starts to laugh. "This is gonna sound awful, but this is the most exciting Christmas we've ever had."

Dickie chuckles. "Kind of, yeah," he agrees.

"Well," a stern voice from the front of the room snaps, "I'm glad you're all laughing at this!"

"Relax, Mom," Lizzie says, crutching her way over to a seat.

"Relax?" Kathy chuckles. "This never would have happened if she hadn't been there tonight!" She gestures to Olivia. Then she looks at her. "The only reason my daughter is on crutches right now is because you gave her permission to sled down the hill!"

"Oh, Mom," Dickie groans, "We all were! It wasn't Liv's fault! Lizzie thought it would be fun to surf down it! She stood up and started sliding, but she hit some ice, spun out, and rolled out into the street and hit a parked car. Liv had nothing to do with it."

Kathy shakes her head. "I never would have let you guys do that," she mumbles.

"We were gonna do it anyway," Maureen offers. "The only one who's really young enough to still need anyone's permission for anything is Eli, and obviously if it involves getting off of someone's lap, he isn't interested." She laughs. "Please, Mom, stop blaming Liv. She got hurt tonight, too, if you care."

Kathy blinks, then turns her head. "Are you...are you okay?"

"I'll live," Olivia shrugs. "It's just a cut. I've gotten through worse."

"How?" Kathy asks, turning in her seat.

Olivia shakes her head. "Not important, don't..."

"She sliced her finger open trying to get my foot out from under that car," Lizzie interrupts. "My shoelaces were tangled on something. She pulled too hard, I guess."

Maureen hums. "The only reason Kathleen even got burned is because when Liv heard Lizzie yelling, she dropped everything and ran. Just so happened that she was on her way to the sink with the pot of pasta."

Kathy closes her eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispers. "I've been so wrapped up in trying to hate you all these years, that...I guess blaming you was just...instinct. I'm sorry."

Elliot, behind them, says, "Well, if that's not a Christmas miracle, I don't know what is." He laughs as he pushes a very large tree into the corner where the chairs once were.

Olivia's eyes widen. "What is our tree doing here?"

Elliot smiles at her. Then he turns around and watches as some other people come through the doors carrying their dinner and presents. "We couldn't have Christmas without the tree, honey."

Olivia gets to her feet, Eli still sound asleep on her shoulder. "What is all of this?"

Fin drops the lasagna onto the table. "This," he says with a grin, "Is Christmas dinner, uh, to go." He laughs. "Stabler called, asked if me and Mel could swing by your place and grab a few things."

Melinda takes off her gloves and adds, "And then he called back and asked if we could grab everything."

Munch, piling presents under the tree, stands up and laughs, too. "Then they called me, because everything included a six-foot, already decorated tree and ten thousand presents."

With tears in her eyes, Olivia walks over to Elliot. "You...you..."

"Saved Christmas," he nods. "You always said I was Superman, so I finally decided to live up to it." He kisses her, pulling her close, and he smiles against her lips. "The only Christmas you were ever really looking forward to, the first one in a very long time that was really important to me, was our first one...together. Really together. I couldn't just let it go."

The doctor, standing near the tree, smiles as he looks around. "Very festive," he says, laughing.

"Oh," Elliot breathes, turning. "Doctor Carmichael, how's Kathleen? Where is she?"

"I'm right here, Dad," Kathleen says, walking to an empty seat. "It's not bad. The skin is very irritated, but it won't scar at all. I've got cream on it, I'll be fine."

Elliot sighs, relieved, then looks at Olivia. "Please?" he begs in a whisper. "It's not like we need to get home for anything, now."

She stares at him, rolls her eyes, and nods. "Take him," she says, trying not to wake Eli as she passes him to Elliot. "Okay," she huffs, looking at Doctor Carmichael. "He thinks I need stitches."

The doctor shakes his head and grins. "Right this way, Detective Benson."

She looks back at Elliot, and she smiles as she follows the doctor.

Elliot takes a breath as he turns. "All right, gang, it's not gonna take that long with her. Let's get dishes passed around, napkins are in that bag with plastic forks and...oh, we need three more chairs for Fin, Munch, and Doc Warner."

"I'll get 'em," Dickie says, getting up and moving to the stacked chairs he'd pushed out of the way.

Kathy sits, one seat away from Elliot, knowing he'd want it for Olivia. "This is...this is really nice, Elliot," she says. She holds her arms out, as if asking for something.

Elliot smiles. He lays Eli down into her open arms. "You know me and Christmas."

"Yeah, I know you and Olivia, too," she replies, rocking her son. "You would go to the ends of the earth to make her happy."

He sighs and he nods. "I would have done that for you, once upon a time," he tells her. "You know she had nothing to do with...I mean she kind of did, but that was all on me and my feelings for her, which until February, she completely ignored. She never...not once..."

"I know," Kathy says, nodding. She gives him a smile. "Don't screw it up this time, okay? God will forgive one divorce, but two? Probably not."

He narrows his eyes. "Liv and I...it's barely been a year, Kathy. We're not..."

"You knew you wanted to marry her long ago, Elliot," Kathy interrupts. "That's why I hated her. You looked at her the way you used to look at me, and then you started looking at her like I've never seen you look at anyone. I knew you were gone. So, just...tell her. Nothing standing in your way now, is there? Do it."

Olivia sits, silent, between them, and she looks at both of them awkwardly. "Um, I...uh, four stitches," she says, holding up her bandaged finger. "And you were wrong before," she says, looking at Elliot. "What I just heard? That was a Christmas miracle."

He laughs and kisses her, then turns to his family and friends, crowded around a cramped table in a hospital waiting room. "Merry Christmas, guys," he says, turning and giving Olivia's forehead one more kiss before serving the food.

Olivia sends a glance and a smile at Kathy, then looks around, just as Elliot had. She catches each face one by one, and she leans over toward Elliot. "Thank you," she whispers to him.

He turns and looks at her, and his eyes narrow as he smirks. "Just wait," he says, kissing her. "Once we actually do get home..."

She kisses him, silencing him, knowing what he was getting at, and she moans quietly against his lips. "I love you," she says softly.

He brushes his forehead against hers and kisses her again. "I love you, too, baby." he laughs, and then he whispers, "Best Christmas ever."

**A/N: Next, A Christmas spent alone in the middle of nowhere proves to be exactly what they need.**


	11. Cabin Fever, One Shot

**A/N: A Christmas spent alone is not necessarily sad. **

**DISCLAIMER: SVU belongs to Dick Wolf, this story, however, belongs to TStabler**

"It is really coming down out there," Olivia mutters, staring out the cabin window. She lifts her hand to the glass, and she smiles as she swipes hearts and initials in the frost.

Elliot sneaks up behind her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and offering her a cup of hot cocoa. "My little artist," he teases, kissing her cheek.

She drops her head to his shoulder and sips the steaming chocolate. "I never got to doodle on the windows when I was a kid," she says. "My mother would freak out about fingerprints and…it was just better not to give her a reason to yell."

He kisses her forehead. "You can doodle on anything you want," he says to her. "There's a maid, here." He laughs and sips his own cocoa, then pulls her away from the window and toward the fireplace. He eases her down onto the soft, thick carpet and gets her settled in the divot between his legs.

She sighs as she leans back against his chest, and she smiles. "That tree is adorable," she says. "Perfect for…"

"Just the two of us," he finishes for her, sipping from his mug again. "Thanks," he says, putting his hot cup down. He guides it far enough away from him to avoid knocking it over if he moves.

"For what?" she asks, tilting her head to look at him.

He shrugs and begins to rub her shoulders. "Coming up here with me," he says. "It's not easy spending Christmas without the kids. I wanted to get out of the city altogether, and you…you were packed and ready before I even told you where we were going."

She laughs. "Christmas without you isn't Christmas at all, El," she tells him, returning her gaze to the crackling fire before them. "Spending it alone, away from the craziness of the city, it sounded nice." She shrugs and says, "It's very nice." She lets her eyes wander over the two embroidered stockings hanging on the mantle, and her eyes glimmer with wonder at what might be hidden in hers.

"It is," he says. "We don't have to worry about anyone hearing us." He chuckles and kisses the back of her head, and he rubs a little harder on her shoulders. "Or seeing us," he whispers.

"That feels so good," she moans, her head dropping a bit.

He smirks, and he tilts his head. He kisses across the back of her neck, then up the side of it. He listens to her soft moans as he licks behind her ear, then catches her earlobe in his mouth, and he sucks on it.

"Oh, my God," she breathes, the empty mug in her hands dropping and rolling away. Her fingers try to grasp at the carpet, but the fibers slip through them and she's left unstable. "El, baby, you need to…"

Knowingly, he pushes her to the left a bit, and he wraps her legs around his waist as he flattens out his body. He holds her down to him as he kisses the tops of her shoulders and toys with the red sweater she's wearing.

She's growing impatient, too, and pulls at the wool, joining his hands in an effort to get the top off of her. She has to sit up, and it bothers her to pull away from his kisses. She moans, yanking the red sweater off over her head.

He growls slightly as he watches her throw it behind her, his hands running over the muscles of her stomach. His eyes dart there, then, and he groans in appreciation and arousal as his fingers trace the lines of her abs. His hands move lower, he fingers the button on her jeans.

"What are you doing?" she asks, seeing the dangerous look in his eyes. "El, you…"

He stops her words when he yanks on the denim, pulling it over her hips. He looks up at her and taps her thigh, telling her to rise up a bit. "Atta girl," he teases when she pushes herself up enough for him to pull the jeans down over her ass.

She laughs as he kisses her legs, pulling the material off of them one by one, and she shakes her head at him when he tosses them toward her discarded sweater. She sees the look on his face, and she smirks. "You're not the only one who likes to go commando every once in a while," she says to him.

"Makes my job easier," he says in return, and his hands fly to her hips again. He pulls, earning a gasp from her, and he has a firm grip on her ass. His face is mere centimeters from her sex, and he looks up at her as he lifts his head just a bit.

"Sweet Jesus," she murmurs, and she finds the irony in using such a phrase on Christmas Eve, but it fits. Her knees, one on either side of his face, tense as he licks her, and she's paralyzed by the sight she's looking down upon. It's a new angle for her, and she can't help but rock her body, her hips grinding deeper over his working lips and tongue. Her eyes watch it all happen, and her heart thuds fast and hard.

He grunts and moans as he gears up into her, sliding his tongue through her wet folds, then he pulls his head back a bit. He stares up at her, seeing the wonton look in her eyes, and he winks as he starts flicking his tongue over her clit.

Her head flies back and she yells, "Fuck, El!" She has one hand on the carpet beside them and the other on his chest, pressing her fingertips into his muscles beneath his sweater.

He moans, his tongue working harder, his eyes glued to hers, and he can't believe how much better she tastes when he can see how much she's enjoying it.

"Shit," she spits out, moving the hand from the carpet to his forehead. Her body shudders with a small wave of electricity, but she fights it. "El, not yet," she barks, pushing him away from her, forcing his head down into the rug. She ignores the confusion and slight irritation on his face and slides down his chest. She unzips his jeans, slowly, her narrow eyes seem to challenge his.

"Oh, holy…night," he garbles, his hands now tangled in her hair.

"Cute," she scoffs, pulling him free from the silk boxers and rough denim. She holds his length in her hand, not moving up his shaft, and she slowly swirls her tongue around his tip. She knows what it does to him, and it excites her.

"Oh, you little…" he grunts, and he bucks his hips, trying to get more of him into her mouth, but she won't budge. "Fuck, baby," he moans, his eyes stuck open, watching her. He glares hard at her as she flicks her tongue lightly against the very tip of him, and he shakes his head. "Evil," he mumbles.

She chuckles, finally sliding her mouth over him, and the cry of relief and moan of pleasure that hits her ears makes her even wetter than his mouth had. She slides up, down, torturously slow and deep. She pulls herself off of him and licks him once before easing back up his body.

As she moves , he kicks off his pants and huffs. He tugs off his sweater and throws it, not caring where it lands or what it hits, his only concern is that his skin meets hers as soon as possible. He smiles up at her as she looms over his face with a menacing look in her eyes. "You still think I don't pay attention when you talk?" he asks, his fingers grazing up her back. "This is what you had in mind when you told me…"

She bends her head and kisses him, silencing him. The essence of her is on his lips and tongue and it melds with the flavor of him in her own mouth. She moans as she slides her slickness along his hardness, coating him. "You always listen to me," she whispers, her lips moving against his. "That's one of the reasons I fell in love with you."

He runs his hands down to cup her bare bottom, and he stills her motions as he pushes into her only slightly. "What are the other reasons?"

"You've got an amazing ass," she whispers as she bites at his bottom lip.

"Oh," he grins, pushing into her a bit more. "Is that all I'm good for?"

She moans, her head drops to his, and she says, a bare whisper, "Absolutely not."

And with her words, the mood shifts. His eyes soften, and he holds her tight as he flips them over. He stares down at her, watching the flickering orange glow of the fire bathe her in a soft tint.

"What?" she asks, her eyes boring into his.

He shakes his head and kisses her. "Just wondering how I got lucky enough to not only have you in my life, but to keep you."

She let silence pass between them, then she kisses him. "Keep me?"

His eyes shoot to her stocking, and he smiles. "Yeah," he nods, looking back at her. "Can I keep you?"

"You don't even have to ask," she smiles, kissing him again.

Their sex is postponed, just for a minute, as they kiss, their bodies simply pressing into one another, their hearts pounding against their chests in perfect sync.

"Merry Christmas, baby," he whispers, pushing his way into her all the way.

She moans, turning her head and pressing her lips together, feeling the pleasure ripping through her. Her eyes open, then, and she sees the window. It's fogged up again, but her doodled heart is still visible, their initials still etched into the frosted glass. She smiles, and twists her head back toward Elliot. "Merry Christmas," she responds, wrapping her arms around him.

Outside, the snow falls harder, and builds up higher, blocking the door and the driveway. Not that they plan on leaving anytime soon. Snowed in, alone, on Christmas, they are content, closer than they have ever been, and happier than they'd ever imagined they could be.

**A/N: Next: A gift from a secret admirer sends Elliot into a fit of jealous rage, but why?**


	12. Clear and Present Jealousy, One Shot

**A/N: A gift sends Elliot into a jealous spiral...and then he does something about it.**

**DISCLAIMER: Dick Wolf owns SVU and the characters; TStabler© owns the story you're about to read.**

"You're staring," Munch says to Elliot, sitting on the bench beside him.

Elliot downs the shot of whiskey in his hand, his eyes glued to the object of his obsession. "I know," he says, slamming the empty shot glass onto the bar.

"I don't blame you," Munch says, shaking his head. "If I were ten years younger, I'd be...fuck it, I'm staring at her, too," he laughs. "She's beautiful."

"That she is, man," Elliot agrees, signaling the bartender for another shot. "Any man would be lucky to be with her tonight."

Munch hums and pats his friend on the shoulder. "The man she wants to be with never asked her," he says, peering over his glasses at Elliot.

"Who?" Elliot snaps, turning his head toward Munch.

With raised eyebrows, Munch blinks. "You, ya jackass."

Elliot's eyes narrow. "Me? Why would she wanna be here with me?" he asks quickly, swallowing hard. She is actually at the party with him, but it's his first date, if he can even call it that, in almost twenty years. His nerves are shot so badly he needs the bar more than the dance floor. At least until he calms down.

"Well," Munch begins, "Let's see. She took you in when Kathy kicked you out, it's been two months and she hasn't asked you to leave. You spend your days together at work, and your nights together at her place doing everything but what you know you really wanna be doing. And...the way she looks at you."

"Enlighten me," Elliot huffs, slamming back his new shot.

"Wait for it," Munch says, watching the woman over Elliot's shoulder. "Turn around, now!"

Elliot turns, and for a brief moment he sees her, gazing at him as if he's the one she wants, and he watches her smile and wave at him, almost coyly, as if she's flirting. He can't help it. He smiles and waves back. And then his smile fade, and his jaw tightens. "What's he doing over there?"

Munch folds his arms. "If you leave the last cookie in the jar long enough, someone will eventually eat it before you do."

Elliot grabs Munch's drink from the table and swallows it in one gulp, and he gets off the bench. He pulls at his tie, smoothes out his shirt, and he heads over to her, eyeing the man beside her venomously. "Liv!" he calls to her, when he's close enough.

"Hey, El," she returns brightly. She closes her eyes for a moment and discreetly inhales deeply when he hugs her, and she wishes, just for a moment, that he won't let go. But he does, and it breaks her heart. "Having fun?"

"Oh, yeah," he says sarcastically. "You know I always have a grand old time at the NYPD holiday party. Wahoo," he twirls a finger in the air dryly. Then he spots something around her neck. Something shiny and expensive-looking. "Uh, what...what's that?"

Her hand flies to her neck. "Oh, uh...it's..."

"A gift from me," Trevor Langan, the man to her right, declares proudly. He sips from his wine glass smugly and gives Elliot a hard look. "Pretty. Isn't it?"

Elliot scowls, then looks at Olivia. "Can I talk to you?" he asks, pulling her a bit roughly over to a quiet corner.

"What the hell, Elliot?" she snaps, yanking her wrist out of is hand. "You'd better have a damned good..."

"Why is that asshole giving you presents?" he barks.

She narrows her eyes and gives him a tight smile. "It's Christmas," she says, folding her arms. "Are you...you're jealous, aren't you?"

"Liv, that's one hell of a Christmas present to get from a guy you can barely stand!" he yells, pointing at the diamond around her neck. "Now, I know I've been sending you these mixed signals, okay? I'm trying not to fuck this up, and I don't know how to begin with you! I haven't dated since high-school! I know you're frustrated, here, but is that really a reason to..."

"El," she interrupts, but he babbles over her.

"You don't think...every night I...God, you don't know how much I want to..." He grunts and shakes his head once. "Damn it, Liv, I'm asking you to just...wait for me! I mean, come on! Trevor? Trevor Langan? You always said that he..."

She laughs, which stops him mid-rant. She tries to stop, but she snorts again and laughs even harder.

"Why is this funny?" he asks, offended. "Are you...well, I may be a little out of the loop when it come to women, but I think I know what's happening with us. Or, I thought I did, I guess I..."

"Elliot," she says, holding up a hand, trying to breathe through her laughter. "I'm laughing because you honestly believed something was going on with me and Langan! The look on your face, the was you just lectured me on..."

"So...hold on..." he interrupts, "Nothing between you and...but that's an expensive..."

"We all got one, El," she says, cutting him off and pulling both of his tense hands into hers. "They're gifts from Henshall and Langan. Every woman here got one. And if you bothered to actually talk to Trevor, he would have given you the gold-plated pen and pencil set that they're giving to the men."

He blinks. He looks over her shoulder at Trevor, then turns back to Olivia. "Really?"

She nods. "It's no secret that Langan has it bad for me, but, El, you know me. I would never..."

"Hey!" Fin yells toward them. "You just gonna stand there, or you gonna kiss?"

Elliot turns, rolling his eyes. "Fin, why would I kiss..."

"Look up!" Fin chuckles. raising his beer bottle toward the ceiling.

Confused, Elliot raises his eyes, as does Olivia, and they both feel their stomachs lurch.

"You pulled me over to the fucking mistletoe, El," she growls under her breath.

He exhales, then squeezes her hands. "Good," he says. "This is the kick in the ass I needed to do eat the cookie before someone else."

"What?" she asks, furrowing her brow and chuckling slightly.

He smiles at her. "Forget it," he says, pulling her closer to him. "I'm not just doing this because we're standing..."

"I know," she whispers. She runs her thumbs over the sides of his hands and says, "We've been dancing around this for months."

"Years," he corrects. Then moves, and his lips touch hers gently. It doesn't last long, because the spark that shoots through his body surprises him so much he backs away from her.

She feels it, too, and she searches his eyes for some kind of sign that it's okay, that he wants her. "El?"

With a rough yank, he pulls her toward him. Their chests are pressed together and his hands wind around her waist. "Liv," he whispers, smiling at her. He moves his head again, kissing her slower, longer.

She moans almost inaudibly when he swipes his tongue over her lips, and she parts them, letting him in. She grips his suit jacket tighter, pressing further into him, and she lets him into her heart, too, a bit more than he already is.

He slides his hands up her body, they come to rest on her face as he cups it gently, and he pulls back to breathe and to look at her. He's quiet, taking in what just happened, and he smiles at her again.

She rests her hands over his, slipping her fingers through his and pulling them away from her face. She tugs him away from the mistletoe, back toward the spot near Trevor and some other lawyers from which Olivia had been pulled.

Trevor greets them both eagerly, then pulls a skinny box out of a bag to his left. He smacks it into Elliot's hand. "Merry Christmas, Stabler."

Elliot laughs, then looks at Olivia. He sees they "I told you so" in her eyes, and he shakes his head at her, then kisses her again. This time, there's no prodding from the mistletoe or encouragement from friends. There is only him, loving her.

In that moment, their lives shift considerably. Though, if they're being honest, nothing changes at all. Something of which they'd been so afraid is now something they know they can't live without.

"Merry Christmas," he whispers to her, rubbing his nose against hers.

She laughs, and she's shocked at how happy she sounds, at how happy she feels. "Merry Christmas, El."

**A/N: Next, someone returns from a long absence on Christmas Eve...**


	13. Guess Who's Coming to Dinner, Part One

**A/N: A surprise guest on Christmas Eve turns their world on its ear, but they return the favor tenfold.**

**DISCLAIMER: Dick Wolf owns SVU and all related characters. TStabler owns the following story.**

The weathered man walks up the stone steps, his loafers crunch in the snow as he moves. He takes a deep breath, knowing it's been too damn long and the person beyond the door is probably still hurt and angry. He lifts a shaking hand and knocks hard on the white door, just under the pine wreath, and he waits, nervous. He hears the lock click, he sees the knob turn, and he tries to smile, but he's confused. "Olivia?"

"Oh, my God," Olivia whispers, her left hand shooting to the spot on her sweater over her heart.

"Baby," a voice calls as more footsteps are heard. "Who is it?"

The confused man's eyes widen as his attention turns to the gentleman who steps up behind Olivia. There is a child in his arms, one that the man doesn't remember meeting. "Baby?" he questions in a sotto voice. "Wait...you two..."

"Please, Captain," Olivia chokes out, on the verge of tears, "Come in." She steps aside, pulling the door open a bit.

Don Cragen, still confused, steps into the foyer and takes off his hat. He brushes the snow off the top as he looks around at the house, so vastly different from the last time he'd been inside. His eyes trail over the pine garland hung in small scallops along the walls, the silver tinsel over the mantle where what seems like a dozen stockings are hung at perfect angles. He turns his head and spots the tree, giving off a brilliant glow as its lights twinkle. Then he sees the mountain of exquisitely wrapped gifts beneath it, and he laughs. "When did you become a Norman Rockwell family?"

Olivia scrapes her teeth over her bottom lip. "You missed a lot," she says, and there is bitterness in her words and tears in her eyes.

"Apparently," Cragen says with a nod. He's still awkwardly holding his hat. "Well, Elliot, I came to see you...never thinking I'd find..."

Elliot holds up a hand, then moves a few feet into the living room. He puts the young boy that had been in his arms down in a playpen, then returns to the foyer. He wraps an arm around Olivia. "You didn't think you'd find me with my wife?"

"Wife," Cragen breathes, his heart skipping a beat. "What? When?"

Elliot hold out a hand, then takes Cragen's hat and coat. "We should talk. In the kitchen," he says, jerking his head toward the room full of children to his right. They're watching television and playing board games, but they would hear everything.

Olivia waits as Elliot hangs the hat and trench on their coat rack, then follows her husband into the kitchen, and she hears Cragen walking behind her. She turns her head over her shoulder and says, "Forgive the mess. We're not done cooking and baking yet, and it's..."

"Christmas Eve," Cragen says with a nod, "I know. I...you cook now? And you bake?"

Olivia laughs as she sits down. "Please," she scoffs. "I supervise." She reaches over the table and takes Elliot's hand. "I would burn water if he let me loose in here by myself."

"She's kidding," Elliot says, irritation evident in his phrase. "She's a great cook. She just...well, until we got together, she didn't see a reason to cook for just herself." He sits and he gestures for Cragen to do the same.

Cragen pulls out a chair, and he tries to speak the question that's on his mind, the elephant in the room. "Elliot," he begins, "Where's Kathy?"

Something flashes in Elliot's eyes, and he squeezes Olivia's hand a bit tighter. "Gone," he hisses. Then he relaxes, letting the anger go. It's been years, but some pain lingers, and always will. "After the shooting...when I..." he clears his throat. "Once I put myself back together, my marriage fell apart. Guess she was tired of my moping, and sick of telling her how much I needed to see Liv."

"So?" Cragen prods. "What happened?"

"She finally filed the papers I signed before Eli was born," Elliot explains. "I was in such a shitty state, I let her. I knew it was the best for both of us. And if I'm being honest, it wasn't really her I fought my way back from the brink for," he sends a glance toward Olivia. "Shooting that girl...it made me realize that life is...so fucking short. I decided that, once I worked through it all, I would go after the one thing I wanted but never had the balls to take."

Cragen chuckles, then looks at Olivia. "So you two have been together for..."

"Eighteen years, give or take," Elliot quips.

Olivia rolls her eyes. "For that first year, we were like a yo-yo. We got together, we broke up, we got back together, we broke up, then we got married," she said. "Stayed that way, surprisingly. Five years, so far."

"That boy you were holding," Cragen says, his head snapping toward Elliot, "When I came in. That was..."

"Nathan," Elliot tells him proudly. "He's the baby. For now," he eyes Olivia with a wink.

Cragen smiles and looks back at Olivia. "Is he your only..."

"Lily," Olivia says, interrupting, her smile wide. "She's three, and Aiden is..." she blushes a bit at the admission she's about to make. It isn't a secret, but she hasn't seen Cragen in years, and he might take it the wrong way. "Aiden's almost six." She looks at Elliot and says, "He was a happy, little, accident."

Elliot laughed. "He pushed the wedding up a few months," he says, remembering fondly. "And then he was a week late. He kept us on our toes, man." He laughs and his face softens as he looks at Olivia.

"I missed a divorce, a wedding, and three kids," Cragen states regretfully. "I can't...I am so..." he swallows hard, blinks, and looks at Olivia. "How's the unit?"

Olivia's face falls instantly. "Well, it's...different," she says. She bites the inside of her cheek. "When you left, we had a run of incompetent replacements, until the finally hired someone who knew what the hell he was doing." She brushes her hair behind her ears. "Amaro lasted six months after you quit, then he transferred to Homicide. Said he couldn't deal with living victims anymore. Rollins is still there, but she's hardly happy about it. Munch retired last year, and Fin's playing Russian Roulette with his revolving door of partners."

"What about you?" Cragen asks, "And who's running it now?"

"I'm good," she says nodding. "A lot better than I was when you left. God, first Elliot then you, I was losing my family there one by one, and losing my mind." She chuckles. "Now, I'm...I'm good."

Cragen narrows his eyes. "You started seeing Elliot before I left," he says. "I noticed a change in you."

She shrugs. "Guilty," she jokes.

"I should have guessed," Cragen says softly. He raises an eyebrow. "And, uh, the captain is..."

"Me," Elliot interjects, poking at a cookie shaped like a snowman. "Icing's dry on these," he mumbles to himself before licking his finger. "We can put them on the tray."

"You?" Cragen asks, shaking his head. "But how? You..."

"I resigned," Elliot says, scoffing. "From my position as a detective in the unit. Even retired people go back to work eventually. Ya know, I didn't think I could go back there, but...Liv can be very persuasive." He smiles at her. "She reminded me how much I loved it, how much it meant to me get the sick fucks off the streets, especially since I had daughters who were heading out on their own."

"Oh, hey," Cragen asks, sitting up straighter. "Where are they, by the way? Maureen and Kathleen? What about the twins?"

"Mo graduated from NYU," Elliot said with a proud fatherly smile. "She lives in this small apartment in Manhattan, near the station and, uh, she works at..." he suppresses the urge to chuckle, "Henshall and Langan. Kathleen's a senior at Sienna. Liv wrote her an amazing reference letter and made a few calls."

Liv leans forward a bit more. "Liz is a sophomore at Harvard, and Rich is at West Point. He wanted to serve but...Elliot wanted him to get a degree. They compromised." She smiles and turns her head toward the kitchen doorway, sighing. "It's good to have them all home for the holidays though."

Cragen looks at Olivia, sees her soft smile, and her warm eyes. "I always knew you'd be an amazing mother," he says. "I just can't believe I missed it all." He sighs. He lets it all sink in, and the regret turns to anger, and he knows he's about to aim it at the wrong person. "Though, I have to tell you, I never thought you would have Elliot's kids."

Elliot narrows his eyes. "What does that mean?"

"Well, you were married, a Catholic," Cragen says with a shrug. "I knew Olivia had it bad for you, but I always just thought she was barking up the wrong tree and would end up getting hurt." He rests his elbows on the table and looks at Olivia. "You never struck me as the type who would willingly break up a family," he says, though he's smiling. "And I never thought you'd ever settle for someone like Elliot."

"Someone like Elliot?" she asks, tilting her head.

"You know," Cragen says, shifting in his seat. "Guy leads you on for twelve years, making you...essentially...the other woman. He didn't even care that he had five kids from a previous marriage, now you have, what? Eight? That's asking a lot from someone who had no parenting experience. And he does have an arrogant..."

Elliot's mood shifts as the words from Cragen's mouth hits his ears. "Excuse me?" he bites.

Cragen freezes. "Maybe that came out wrong..."

"You know," Elliot interrupts, "You can't just walk into my house on Christmas Eve, after dropping off the fucking planet for almost six goddamned years, insult me and my wife, and think it's all gonna be okay!"

"Elliot, I didn't mean to..." but Cragen is cut off by Elliot's near growl.

"Christmas or not, that's one thing I won't tolerate. Not even from family. You need to leave." Elliot's hands ball into fists.

Olivia takes a breath as she watches Elliot stand, his nostrils flare, and his body tremble. She knows how pissed off he is, and she knows what happens now. She waits as Elliot shows Cragen the door, she bites her lip as she rises from her chair. She hold her breath as she walks through the living room, checking on her children on her way to the front door. She wonders if watching Cragen drive away will calm him down, but she's sure he's too pissed off, and he will need to blow off steam some other way. "El?"

"Fuck," he spits, turning and punching the blue aluminum siding of his house. "Shit!"

She knows it's a mistake, but she reaches a hand out and squeezes his shoulder. "I know," she says.

He turns and without explanation he pulls her into him and then presses her into the side of their doorframe. "He was wrong," he says harshly. "I would never..." he starts, shaking his head, and he presses his lips to hers.

She tries to push him away, after all, they're on their front porch on Christmas Eve and half of Queens could be watching. "El, I know," she says, but it's garbled by his strong kiss.

He's beyond angry, terribly upset, and right now, he is also freezing. He prays he's got her deep enough in the shadows of the eave so their actions are well hidden. He needs warmth right now, and he needs it from her. "So wrong," he mumbles against her lips. His icicle fingers trail up under her sweater, and he feels her twitch. "Sorry," he breathes, the white, smoky, puff of breath floats up as he speaks.

She nods, then closes her eyes. She lets him press his cold hands against her warm skin, sending chills up her spine and a shock to someplace lower. "Not here," she pants, though she wants it as much as he does, and she shivers in his arms in cold anticipation.

"No one can see us," he tells her, his hand sliding her jeans zipper down. He shoves a hand into the elastic waist of her panties, runs one finger through her wetness, then he looks into her eyes.

She holds his gaze as her fingertips run over the bulge in his pants, and she sees his eyes darken as his smirk grows. "We really should go inside," she whispers, rocking her hips into her hand.

"In a minute," he tells her. He watches her face, her eyes, as he moves his fingers. He's never been so in love with watching someone the way he is with her. He watches her at work. He watches her sleep. When he's upset, mad, exhausted, drunk...anything...his first desire is not to cum, but to watch her cum. He moves his fingers faster, feeling that she's close. He needs this.

She closes her eyes, bites her lip, and her body tightens against the blue facade behind her. She shudders and trembles as she feels a wave of heat fill her frozen body, and she moans his name quietly.

He's amazed, and he's satisfied, but he's also very aware of something else. "Oh, honey," he says, an apology. Then he stops moving. He takes a shaky breath and drops his forehead to hers. "I overreacted, didn't I?"

She cups his face and kisses his rapidly chapping lips. "Just a bit," she says to him. She moans when she feels him remove his hand from her pants, and she chuckles when he zips up her jeans for her.

The timing, it seems, is perfect. Cragen's car pulls up to their curb again, and the harried looking man gets out of the driver's seat. He walks, slowly, toward them. "I forgot my hat," he says sheepishly.

Elliot sighs, and he scratches his head as he bites his lip. "I'm actually...look," he huffs. "Come back inside, have a cup of coffee and one of Liv's cookies. We've got some people coming over, but...I think I speak for Liv, too...we'd like you to stay for dinner."

Cragen's heart thuds, and he smiles. "Thank you," he says. "I really am sorry. I don't know why I said..."

"Forget it," Elliot offers, holding the door open for his former captain. He knows, though, that the people headed over for dinner aren't going to be as receptive to the surprise guest as he and Olivia are.

**A/N: Why not? Who else is coming to dinner? Why did Cragen leave? And a few other surprises are blabbed at dinner, in part two.**


	14. Guess Who's Coming to Dinner, Part Two

**A/N: A surprise guest on Christmas Eve turns their world on its ear, but they return the favor tenfold.**

**DISCLAIMER: Dick Wolf owns SVU and all related characters. TStabler owns the following story.**

"Can you pass the potatoes?" Maureen asks, looking at her father.

Elliot blinks once, then hands the oldest child the bowl of home-smashed, buttery, garlic-riddled spuds. "Here, honey," he says, smiling.

The rest of the table is silent, and they're all looking at each other, asking the same question mentally that ten-year-old Eli is about to voice. "Who's the guy, Dad?"

"You...you don't remember me?" Cragen asks, a bit of hurt in his words.

Eli shakes his head as he shoves a forkful of ham into his mouth. "Should I?"

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Olivia scolds gently.

Eli looks at her with an impish, apologetic grin. "Sorry, Mom," he says as he swallows. He's the only one of Elliot's children from his previous marriage to call Olivia his mom, but it's fitting. He is the youngest, and was practically raised by her. "So who is he?"

Elliot scruffs his son's hair a bit. "You were just a baby when you met him," he says. "He's been gone for a long time, but this is the guy that introduced me to Mommy. He's..."

"Oh!" Eli says, understanding. "Your old boss!"

"Yeah," Elliot nods. Then he sends a wary look down the table at Fin, who's been quiet the entire meal. "Hey, man," he says, getting his friend's attention, "Can you send those rolls down here?"

Casey Novak, sitting beside Fin, reaches for the bread platter before Fin can grab it. "Are these homemade?" she asks, tearing into a warm, fluffy roll.

Elliot nods, taking the plate from Fin. "You okay?" he asks, catching Fin's glare.

Fin shrugs. "This is...a surprise, Elliot," he says, eyeing Cragen. "Never expected to see him again."

"Speaking of," Casey says, pointing her fork at Cragen, "Where the hell have you been?" She scoffs and adds, "At least after Stabler took off, he had the sense to call Olivia and explain, he kept himself in our lives. You...you just...disappeared."

Cragen stops chewing, he drops his fork, and he wipes the corners of his mouth with the red napkin in his hands. "I had to go," he says.

"Like when Liv had to go to Oregon?" the young man Cragen used to know as Dickie asks. He goes by Rich, now, though, and he is not as naive or as prone to bullshit as he used to be. "Or like when Dad had to go to Germany, or when they both had to go to California? Or did you just take off?"

"Mom cried for two weeks," Liz, Rich's twin, divulges. "Dad had to..."

"Guys," Elliot interrupts. "Just...leave it alone. If he wants to talk, he'll talk."

"It's fine," Cragen says, sighing. "No, it wasn't like that. I just...things were happening that I couldn't stop, and I...I felt like I let my family down." He shakes his head. "I know Olivia blamed me when Elliot left," he says softly. "I thought it would be easier if I left, too."

Olivia looks at him, confused. "I never blamed you," she says. Then she scoffs. "I blamed the world."

Fin turns his head. "Where'd you go?" He narrows his eyes. "Why didn't you call? See someone?"

"I went out to Arizona," Cragen tells them. "There's a ranch out there that...I just needed to think, to be by myself for a while." He smiles. "I met someone. She moved back here with me."

"Oh," Elliot almost whispers. "Where is she?"

"It was bad enough I was going to knock on all of your doors, tonight," Cragen says sheepishly. "I didn't want to spring her on you, too."

Casey sips her wine. "Oh, like this hasn't already been a night of surprises?"

Maureen, biting her lip, looks around the table. "Um, speaking of surprises, I..." she takes a deep breath. "Luke called me from the base. He...he asked me to marry him."

All eyes turn to Elliot, expecting him to fume, but he is smiling, his fork jabbing into a bit of broccoli. "I know," he says. "He called me two weeks ago. He asked me first." He popped the broccoli into his mouth. "I like that kid."

Maureen laughs, a release of nerves. "Jesus," she spits. "Do you have any idea how scared I was that you'd flip out?"

Kathleen looks at her sister. "Congratulations," she says, smiling.

"Great," Rich snarls. "This family is just never gonna stop growing, is it?"

"Nope," Olivia says, smirking as she scoops some more potatoes onto her plate.

Liz eyes her. "Uh, Liv, you're...you're not..."

"Not yet," Elliot interrupts his daughter, calming her. "Please, can we get Noah out of diapers first?"

The table laughs, and it seems some of the tension has been eased. Fin looks around, then, and he squints. "You invited Munch, right?"

Olivia sighs. "Of course we did, Fin," she says. "He didn't call back, though."

Elliot takes a gulp of his water. "He'll be here," he says knowingly.

Cragen's eyes snap up. "Really?"

"I got a feeling," Elliot shrugs, and he turns to wink at his wife when the sound of jingling sleigh bells rings through the house.

"Ho, ho, ho!" a booming voice calls.

Elliot's eyes widen in feigned astonishment. "Oh, wow!" he chirps. "Guys," he says looking at the children who still believe in Santa, "Who is that?"

Aiden's face lights up, Lily squeals and claps, and Eli looks around, expecting to see reindeer traipse through the kitchen.

A man in a red suit with a long white beard, carrying a huge sack, comes into the room, chuckling. "Merry Christmas, Stablers!" he calls.

"Santa!" Aiden yells, getting out of his chair.

Lily, though, tilts her head. She walks on her little legs over to the man, and she stares at him for a moment before running and leaping into her mother's lap. "Not Santa," she confirms, pouting.

"Oh, honey," Olivia soothes. "Of course it is!"

Lily shakes her head and leans toward her mother, and she whispers something that makes Elliot spit out his drink.

Olivia laughs, both at her now-wet lover and her perceptive daughter. "Well, honey, he just went on a diet."

After giving that some thought, Lily smiles and jumps down to join her brothers collecting wrapped gifts from Santa.

Cragen waits, then waves.

Santa stands, suddenly ignoring the kids, and he steps over to Cragen.

With tears in his eyes, Cragen stands, and because neither man can help it, they hug. "Hey, Munch," Cragen whispers, patting his shoulder as he pulls away.

Munch nods. "How ya been, Cap?"

"I'm...I'm good," Cragen says, then he points. "Your fans are waiting."

Munch turns, then laughs as he goes back to playing with the youngest kids. He looks up at Elliot. "I brought a lot for the little guy, too. Where is he?"

"He went down for a nap before dinner," Elliot says, grinning. "He's in his crib."

"You didn't have to of all of that Munch," Olivia says with a soft smile as her kids run into the living room to play with their new toys.

"Sure, I did," Munch says, leaning down to kiss Casey on the cheek. He shakes Fin's hand, then moves around the table hugging the older kids and Olivia, then giving Elliot a manly greeting. "You guys are family."

Cragen shakes his head at the thought. "Family," he whispers. "Yeah. You...you were all my family, once."

Elliot clears his throat. "We still are, Cap."

"I've missed way too much," Cragen says, tossing his napkin onto his plate. "Everything is different, now, and..."

"We all started over," Fin cuts him off. "No one says you can't."

Casey pulls Fin's hand into hers. "Things change, people change."

"But family," Elliot adds, "Is forever."

Olivia smiles and says, "Why don't you go pick up that woman you love so much, bring her over. We'd all love to meet her."

Munch's eyes flicker. "Woman?"

Cragen laughs as he nods. "You'd like her, Munch."

"Does she have a sister?" Munch asks, serious.

Cragen chuckles again, as everyone else rolls their eyes, and he realizes maybe nothing has changed at all. Maybe this is all the way it was meant to be.

Fin looks around and says, "Yeah, Cap. When you get back, we'll have some of Liv's cookies and the egg nog that...wait, man," he looks at Elliot. "You did make the egg nog, yeah?"

"Yeah, it's in the fridge, calm down," Elliot says with a smile, wrapping an arm around Olivia.

She hides her smirk as she feels his fingers trail up and down the side of her body. One thing she discovered early in their relationship was his sex drive was always in full gear, something he confessed only ever happened with her, and it always makes her beam with pride.

Cragen sees it, but ignores it. "How long have you all been getting together like this?"

"The year Dad quit," Kathleen pipes in. "It was Liv's idea, actually."

Rich nods as he swallows his mouthful of food. "She thought it would be a way of keeping everyone together, even though things at work were keeping them apart."

"I was going to invite you, then," Olivia says, her eyes turning sad. "But you were gone."

"Well," Cragen sighs, "I'm here now."

And as dinner winds down, Elliot leans toward Olivia and kisses her nose. "I love you," he whispers.

She returns his sweet sentiment, then turns her head, taking in the sight of the people around her table, the sounds of the younger children playing in the next room, then her eyes land on Cragen. "I don't know how you did this," she says to Elliot, "But thank you."

He kisses the crown of her head. "How'd you know I did it?"

She looks up at him. "Because you would." She kisses his lips lightly. "Thank you."

He winks at her, and he laughs as he pulls her close. "Merry Christmas, honey," he mumbles into her neck. And now he knows, everything in life is fickle, and can change at the drop of a hat, but family, the one we are and given and the one we choose, is constant. It comforts him to know that. Especially on Christmas.

**A/N: The End. Next: Someone's spending Christmas sick in bed, but that won't stop someone ELSE from making it special.**


	15. Get Well Soon, One Shot

**A/N: Sometimes being sick on Christmas is the best thing that could happen to a person. Or people. (A request by a great friend)**

**DISCLAIMER: Dick Wolf owns SVU and the characters; TStabler© owns the story you're about to read.**

Olivia rolls over, miserable. A cough rips from her throat and she moans as she sniffles.

Beside her, a four year old boy does the same, but he's fast asleep.

"Go," she mumbles, addressing the man sitting up on the bed.

"No," he replies, pressing a cold compress to her head. "They all know why I'm not going, and they understand." He twists the cap off of a bottle of cough medicine, then pours some into a small, plastic cup. He holds it to her lips and chuckles at the face she makes when she swallows it.

"God, that's awful," she chokes.

"But you can breathe a little easier, right?" he laughs, closing the bottle and putting it on the nightstand. He bends over and kisses her cheek. "You hungry?"

She nods weakly, then turns to look at him. Her eyes barely open as she says, "I'm so sorry."

"Because you intentionally got the flu the day before Christmas," he quips sarcastically, smiling at her. "Nothing to be sorry about, Liv." He looks over at his sleeping, sick, son. "You probably got it from taking care of him."

She shakes her head and says, "I'm still sorry, El. You love Christmas, and you're missing it."

"I'm not missing anything," he says, winking. "I'll be right back with some soup. You want crackers?"

"God, no," she says with a roll of her eyes. "My throat is dry enough."

He kisses her cheek again, makes sure the cold cloth is still pressed to her forehead, and then rises off of the bed and leaves the room.

Once he's gone, she pulls the compress off of her face and tries to sit up. She hears the child beside her start to cry and she freezes. "Oh, Eli," she whispers, "My sweet boy."

The tot lifts his head and looks around, spotting her, and he calms his crying. He moves closer to her, drops his head to her stomach, and falls back to sleep.

Elliot returns to the room, carrying a tray with a bowl of hot soup and some juice, and he stops in his tracks when he looks at the bed. "Oh, you two are too much," he whispers, walking toward her.

She smiles at him and gestures to Eli. "Where am I supposed to put the tray?"

"I'm gonna hold it," he says, sitting down carefully, holding the tray in his lap. "I, uh, I have a surprise for you."

She raises an eyebrow as she reaches for her spoon. She coughs hard before she takes the first taste of the homemade broth.

He grins and looks back toward the door. "Come on in, guys," he says loudly.

Olivia watches, curious, when Elliot's older children come into the bedroom, bringing with them some decorations and presents. A small tree is set up in the corner, the gifts are piled beneath it, and Maureen, the oldest Stabler youth, hangs a stocking near the window.

"Stabler," Olivia says, reading the name on the red and white sock.

Elliot smiles at her. "It's for all of us," he tells her, taking her hand. "No one needs to miss Christmas because you and Eli are sick. Not even you."

Olivia laughs, which turns into coughing. "I would cry if I could feel my face," she jokes.

"We couldn't spend Christmas without you and Dad," Dickie, the oldest boy, says. "Even Mom and Jeff are here."

Kathleen, the middle child, folds her arms. "They're in the kitchen, making dinner."

"That's so…" Olivia pauses to sneeze. "Sweet."

Elliot laughs as he looks at her, and he takes the spoon out of her hand. He scoops up some more soup and holds it out to her. He watches her swallow it and asks, "Do you feel any better at all?"

"A little," she says, opening her mouth as he feeds her more soup. "But it's only one step up from death."

The bedroom door opens again and Kathy and her husband Jeff walk in, smiling. "How are you feeling?" Kathy asks. "How's Eli doing?"

Elliot turns. "They're both a lot better than they were," he says. "You guys, um, go eat. Kath, can you take Eli into his room before you head down?"

Kathy nods, lifting her sleeping son into her arms. "Are you coming?"

"In a bit," Elliot says, nodding. He waits until she realizes that he needs some time alone with Olivia, and he watches as Kathy, Jeff, and the kids file out of the bedroom, then he turns to Olivia.

"What?" she asks, an odd look on her face.

He smirks, slides the tray into the empty space of the bed beside Olivia, and leans closer to her. "You look so adorable when you're sick."

"I think you're the one with the fever now," she chuckles. She sees him moving closer, she tries to move away but it's no use. She moans when he kisses her, and she takes a sharp breath when his lips move down her body. "El?"

"Shh," he hushes, pushing the quilt off of her. He pulls the fleece pajama bottoms down over her hips, and he gently traces the curve of her body with his nose. "So beautiful," he murmurs, moving lower still.

"Oh, God," she breathes, her hands flying to the back of his head as his lips and tongue delve into another, more sensitive, part of her body.

He moans as he tastes her, his hands sliding up and down her thighs as his tongue and teeth gnash on her clit and outer lips, sending her hurdling toward an orgasm at lightning-speed.

"What are you…" her words are silenced by a groan and a grunt, and her back arches. "Elliot."

He works harder, faster, and two of his fingers push their way through her folds and into her slickened entrance. "Come on, baby," he says, his voice rough. "Just relax. Let go."

It's then she realizes why he's doing this. She hasn't slept in three days, she'd been up taking care of Eli, and her own sickness couldn't get her to take the time to rest. He's working her into oblivion in hopes that he will tire her out, she figures, and she hopes it works.

His fingers move faster, his tongue flicks over her nub, and he feels her tense up, tighten, and shake. He's proud of himself, and he's proud of her for staying quiet out of respect for the people downstairs. He slows his movements, bringing her down, and once she's calm he pulls her pants up again.

She watches as he crawls back up her body and she shakes her head at him. "You could have waited for the cough syrup to…"

"Wouldn't get you to sleep fast enough," he says. "Besides, the sooner you go to sleep, the sooner Santa will get here." He winks at her and bends his head. His lips find hers, and he holds her face in his hands, kissing her deeply.

"You're gonna get sick," she mumbles.

He laughs. "No, I'm not. Trust me, if I don't have it by now, I…"

She folds her arms and smirks when he sneezes, and she lifts both eyebrows.

"Don't," he says, pointing a finger at her. "Don't say it."

She holds up her hands defensively and she grabs her spoon again. "Go eat, El," she says.

He shakes his head and moves further into the bed. "I already ate," he jokes, wrapping an arm around her. He takes her spoon again, feeds her some more soup, and looks toward the tree in the corner. He smiles, knowing that, despite it all, this Christmas is just as merry as any he'd ever had. He turns and kisses her forehead, and he whispers, "Merry Christmas, baby."

**A/N: Next, two people who shouldn't be in the same room together end up in one on Christmas. The delivery room!**


	16. Merry Christmas, Baby Part One

**A/N: A Christmas Day surprise…for two unlikely people. **

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and characters belong to Dick Wolf. TStabler© owns this story.**

She moans and tries to wrap her arms behind her back to feel her way around him. Her fingers make it to his left side, and she grips him tightly. "Oh, God," she cries, her head falling back into his chest. She doesn't think there is a better way to spend Christmas morning than this, and she defies anyone to tell her prove her wrong.

He thrusts into her harder, his hands firm around her hips. "Jesus," he spits, his teeth clenched. One hand skims down her thigh, comes up the inside, and rests on her slick heat. He dips his fingers between her folds. It makes her arch backward, pressing further into him, and he chuckles. He runs his fingertips deeper along her slit and feels himself sliding in and out of her; the added sensation spurs him to move faster and harder.

Her toes curl as she digs her nails into his left side, her right hand fists the sheets, and she yells, "Holy shit!" She trembles as his fingers move up toward her clit, and when he flickers one fingertip over it, she feels her body quiver. "El," she breathes, tension building from where his hand is playing on up.

He mumbles something as he nuzzles the back of her head, and he closes his eyes, taking in every bit of feeling. He will miss this, he thinks. He knows that once she has their baby, this new position will be forgotten. It isn't that they don't enjoy it, but he knows that after months of making love to her from behind, they'll both need the eye contact, the tenderness, and the freedom to move again. He grunts as he feels her tighten, and he curses into her hair. "Fuck, Liv," he sputters, his head dropping backward as the pressure builds down below.

"El," she pants again, her eyes squeezed shut as her body rears back into his. "I'm close."

He swipes at her clit again, and he feels her clench and pulsate around his working length. "Come on, baby," he prods, the double entendre not lost on her. The baby is two weeks late. They've been having more sex in the past week than they had when they were trying to conceive, in hopes of knocking Olivia into labor. "Shit," he barks, shooting hotly into her as his fingers wiggle over her clit with more ferocity. He feels her shake, hears her whimper, and part of him knows it will be tonight. He knows his child will be born on Christmas.

"Think we did it?" she asks, breathless, trying to roll herself over to look at him.

He nods as he cups her face and peppers her with kisses. "Even if we didn't," he whispers, "That was incredible."

"It's always incredible," she whispers back, her eyes closing. She moans softly when she feels his hand running in circles over her swollen belly.

He knows she's uncomfortable, and he wishes more than anything that there was something he could do, but he's tried everything already. "I'm sorry," he tells her. "He's stubborn. Like us."

She shakes her head. "Maybe we had the date wrong," she mumbles. "Maybe I wasn't due when we thought." There's a moment of silence, and then her eyes pop open. "Ow," she gasps. "Oh, my God, ow," she says as she struggles to sit up.

"Baby?" he asks, his eyes wide.

She nods and looks at him. "I think so," she says, scooting closer to the edge of the bed.

He's up and moving fast, pulling on the clothes he's had laid out on the nightstand for days. He grabs the long red nightgown he'd set out for her, and he moves toward her. He pulls it down over her head and helps her stand. "Okay," he breathes, "We're ready for this."

"More than ready," she agrees, slipping her feet into the cute shoes she'd placed near the door.

He grabs the packed bag in the corner, then holds her as they walk out of their bedroom. He kicks on the doors in the hallway as he moves. "Let's go, guys!" he yells. "It's happening!"

One by one, the doors open and groggy teenagers rush into the hallway in their pajamas. They all run down the stairs after their father and Olivia, and though they never say so, they all pray that, today, they'll bring home the baby.

* * *

><p>"Thank God you called when you were on the way," the orderly wheeling Olivia through the hall says. "We needed to the time to scramble to find a wheelchair."<p>

"Well," Elliot says, "Her water broke in the driveway, so we didn't really think waiting until we got here to tell her doctor was smart. We wanted to just come right in and…"

The orderly interrupts him. "Sorry, but it seems like everyone's gone into labor tonight! You're still gonna have to wait a bit." He turns left and guides Olivia into a delivery room. As they move further toward the empty bed, a low moan is heard from behind a separative curtain.

"Hold on," Elliot says, ignoring the pain in his hand as Olivia squeezes and breathes hard. "This room is already…"

"We have no choice," the orderly says, shrugging. "We have to double up the rooms, Detective. I'm sorry. There are just too many people giving birth to their Christmas miracles tonight." He helps Olivia up, out of the wheelchair and into the bed, and he nods at her once. "You," he says to Elliot, "Put those on." He points to the scrubs on the end of the bed before leaving the room with the wheelchair.

Elliot grumbles as he grabs the folded blue uniform, and he kisses Olivia before walking into the bathroom. When he returns, he looks more like a doctor than a detective, and he shakes his head as she laughs at him. "Shut up," he chuckles through the paper mask.

"At least I'm happy right now, and not in that much pain," Olivia says, hearing another painful sound come from the woman behind the curtain.

Elliot kisses her forehead through his surgical mask and says, "You have a very high tolerance for pain, remember? You're a cop. You've been shot. This should be a piece of cake."

She raises an eyebrow at him. "Not helping," she chuckles.

The curtain opens, then, and a man pokes his head out into the room. "Elliot!" he yells. "I thought that was you!"

Elliot, already nervous, goes pale. "Hey, Bill," he says with a nod.

Olivia moans, both in frustration and pain as another contraction hits. "God, you have to be fucking kidding me. Shit, that means that woman is…"

"Kathy, honey," Bill says as he throws the curtain open completely. "Look who it is! What are the odds?"

Kathy, breathing hard with both hands on her belly, nods at Olivia vigorously. She waves with one hand, but as a wave of pain hits her, her arm flies back toward her stomach.

Olivia looks up at Elliot. "Merry fucking Christmas," she gripes. "I am having our baby in the same room as your ex-wife and her nimrod husband!"

He laughs and kisses her sweetly and he slips his hand into hers. "Ignore them," he says, looking into her eyes. "I don't care. I'm not concerned. The only thing I care about is you having my baby, and holding him for the first time."

"Hey, Elliot!" Bill interrupts, shoving a camera in their faces, "This is so great, huh? Kathy and Olivia going into labor at the same time? On Christmas! And they got the same room! How cool is that?"

"Bill," Olivia says, pushing the camera away from her, "If I had no problem shoving a reporter from the Times down a flight of stairs before, I will certainly have no issues with doing the same to you!"

Bill backed away. "Okay," he sang, "Someone's hormones are raging."

"You really don't wanna piss her off, right now," Elliot says, flinching as Olivia squeezes his hand again. His attention turns to her and he watches her curl forward. "Breathe," he says, and he counts softly to five. "And out," he whispers, counting again.

"You took Lamaze classes with her?" Kathy shouts from her bed. "You never went with me!"

Elliot rolls his eyes. "Jesus, we are not doing this now!" he yells back. He looks down at Olivia and nods once, then brushes her hair back.

"Where the hell is the doctor?" Olivia asks, moaning her way through another contraction.

"Good question!" Kathy snaps.

Elliot, worried, looks down at his wife. "Are you ready to push?"

"No, but I don't think our son really cares if I am or not," she whines, a tear rolling down her cheek.

He bites his lip, looks from the door to Olivia, and then makes a decision. He pulls his hand free from Olivia's and steps down in front of the foot of the bed. "I've done this before," he says, looking at her.

She nods and struggles to sit up, but before she can push, a doctor barrels into the room. "Sorry for the hold up," he says, looking from Olivia to Kathy. Then he spots Elliot. "Impatient, aren't we?"

"Babies don't wait," Elliot says, irritated.

The doctor checks Olivia's pulse, then, then signals a nurse to check her out as he moves toward Kathy. "All right," he says, snapping his fingers. "Her first!"

"What?" Olivia says, her head lolling weakly to the side.

"You've still got time," the nurse beside her says, hooking up a heart monitor and IV. "Your roommate over there is fully dilated and ready to go." She winks. "You'll be fine, sugar. You got this handsome man here ready and willing to catch the football if need be, am I right?"

Olivia laughs and nods, then holds her hand out to Elliot. When his fingers link with hers, she smiles. "So I guess this is gonna top the big screen TV I bought you last Christmas, huh?"

"Best present ever," he says with a glimmer in his eyes. "I love you," he whispers.

She groans and squeezes his hand. "I love you, too," she says, gritting her teeth. "El, I don't think I've got time. I think this baby's coming now!"

Elliot turns his head, sees the doctor tending to Kathy, who is not having a very easy delivery it seems, and he kisses Olivia's forehead. "Five more minutes," he begs. "Just wait five more minutes, and if no one else comes to help us, I'll take care of you."

She nods, gripping his hand, and she takes a deep breath. It's going to be the longest five minutes of her life.

**A/N: Will she wait for a doctor? Will Elliot deliver his own son? And what will Kathy say to them once she is able? Conclusion. Next.**


	17. Merry Christmas, Baby Part Two

**A/N: Christmas presents are not always material things.**

**DISCLAIMER: Dick Wolf owns SVU and the characters; TStabler© owns the story you're about to read.**

"Breathe, baby," Elliot says, brushing Olivia's damp hair backward. He peers down at her with so much love in his eyes that it scares her as she looks up. He sees the fear, but he misreads it. "Everything's fine," he whispers, squeezing her hand.

Exhaling through pursed lips, she nods. "I know," she mutters as she inhales sharply again. "El, your son is getting really impatient, here. You're gonna have to help me, baby."

He looks up, sees the doctor still coaching Kathy through her own childbirth, and he shakes his head. "I really wanted to hold your hand through this," he sighs.

As she lets go of his hand, though, the crying of a newborn baby fill the room. Tears roll down her eyes as she turns her head in time to see the doctor hold up Kathy's baby, a girl as far as she can tell. She smiles, but it hurts to know that she has waited longer than necessary for Elliot, for the life she has with him, and after it all she's back to coming second to Kathy.

"Don't even think it," Elliot says to her, as if he can read her mind. "You never came second to anyone. Not with me. And you never will." He tilts his head and gives her hand another squeeze. "I know you." Then he snaps his head away from her. "Hey, Doc? You ready for us now? Because I think we're having this baby with or without you!"

The doctor turns around, his eyes tired, and he takes a step toward Elliot. "Sorry I wasn't moving fast enough for you. In case you didn't notice, someone else was having a baby, and I am the only doctor in the room."

"Are you the only one in the hospital?" Elliot yells, then. "You couldn't have called someone else? It's bad enough we have to share a room with them, but sharing a doctor? My wife is in pain over here and you're..."

"Uh, hello!" Olivia barks. "Woman having a baby, here! Can this battle of the balls wait until...oh, Jesus!" She cringes through another contraction. "I'm pushing, whether or not one of you is there to catch this kid!"

Elliot runs to her side as the doctor kneels in front of the bed. He snaps at the nurse, who has just handed a cleaned and wrapped bundle of pink to Kathy. The nurse moves to assist, and the doctor nods. "Go ahead and push, then, Missus Stabler."

Kathy flinches a bit as she hears the man call someone else by that name, but she looks down at her new daughter, and she smiles. But she listens, and isn't sure if her heart is breaking or growing at what she hears.

"Push, baby," Elliot coaches. "That's my girl! My beautiful girl, you gotta push! One more, honey!"

Kathy looks through the part in the curtain, and she sees Elliot almost sitting behind her, holding her as she pushes and grunts. She hears his encouraging words, and she sees the tears in his eyes, and she shakes her head. He's different with Olivia, more aware of her needs and her comfort, but the emotion she hears in his voice and sees in his eyes is the same.

"Come on, baby," Elliot goads, now fully supporting the weight of Olivia's wracked body on his own. He kisses the back of her head and says, "I want my Christmas present, sweetheart."

Kathy blinks. She wonders when he became so tender, and she chalks it up to maturity, as he's much older now than he was when she gave birth to their children. She also knows that his relationship with Olivia is different. It has always been much different than the one she shared with him. It's always bothered her. Until now. Now, she gets it.

Olivia has both of Elliot's hands gripped in hers, she's squeezing so tightly her knuckles are white, and she grunts and shakes as she pushes with everything she has. When she hears the cry of her baby, she relents, and she relaxes. Her body goes limp as she falls into Elliot's strength behind her and she struggles to catch her breath.

Elliot's arms wrap around her protectively as he sniffles, and he nuzzles the crook of her neck with his masked nose. "You did it," he whispers. "God, baby, look! You did it! He's perfect."

Her eyes, drooping and twitching, open barely enough to see, but she does. She smiles as she cries, and she tries to roll her head to get a better look.

"Easy," Elliot says, helping her sit up a bit.

The nurse lays the crying and squealing baby on a blanket, then wheels the cart over to the side of the bed, and she hands Elliot a pair of bent scissors. "Do you know how to cut the cord?"

He nods, wiping at his eyes as he scoots closer to the edge of the bed to look down at his son. With one snip, his connection and bond with the newest piece of his heart is solidified.

Olivia sits up fully and reaches weakly for Elliot's hand. "El?"

He turns and pulls her into his arms, holding her for dear life, kissing her forehead and cheeks and lips, and anything else within reach. He only pulls apart when the nurse hands their baby out to them.

As if they'd practiced it, they both wrap one hand around the blue-blanketed boy, their other hands joined under him, cradling him, and they cry silently as they take in the beauty of the life they created together.

"What'd you name him?" Kathy asks from her bed, holding her own new baby with Bill to her left.

Elliot looks at her, then to Olivia, then down at the surprised and exhausted newborn. "Connor Nicholas," he says. "Connor, we just thought it was a good, strong name. Nicholas...because it's Christmas."

Olivia stifles a cry and a yawn, and she turns to Kathy. "What's her name?"

"Kayla Jane," Kathy says. "We thought it was cute."

"It is," Olivia nods, then turns back to her son. "I'm a mother," she whispers.

Elliot nods and sniffles again as he kisses her temple. "Yeah, you are. Thank you for making me father. Well, again."

She shakes her head and looks up at him. "You...you did this. You...you made every dream I've ever had come true, El. You have this habit of doing that, ya know?"

He smiles. "It's been my job to do that, since the moment we met," he whispers to her. He kisses her again and says, "Merry Christmas, baby."

Bill, in awe at everything that's happened, clears his throat. "I, uh, I got this all on tape. All of it. Both of 'em, Elliot. I'll...I'll make you a copy, if you want."

"Yeah," Elliot nods at the man. "That would be great, actually. Thank you, Bill."

"Merry Christmas, guys," Bill says with a smile. "And, uh, I guess, we should wish a happy birthday to little Connor and Kayla."

Kathy and Olivia lock eyes, and years of pent up mutual aggression and jealousy dissipate. They share a smile, a small laugh, and they look down at the babies in their arms. Sharing the experience has truly been a Christmas miracle, they believe, and they're thankful for it.

"Yeah," Olivia whispers, running the pad of her finger lightly down the bridge of her son's nose. "Merry Christmas."

**A/N: Next, Olivia finds one of her presents early...and it forces her to give Elliot one of his. Naughty girl. **


	18. How She Knows, One Shot

**A/N: When she stumbles upon one of her Christmas presents a bit early, it prompts her to give one in return. **

**DISCLAIMER: Dick Wolf owns SVU and its characters. TStabler© owns the narrative, dialogue and plot of this story**

For the first time, Olivia catches herself humming along to the Christmas songs that have been filtering through the house for a month now, and it doesn't bother her. That's how she knows.

"What a bright time to rock the night away," she sings. Then, she returns to humming, a smile on her face. She tapes the corners of the festive wrapping paper down onto the box in front of her, then flips the gift over. "To go riding in a one horse sleigh," she sings, and she dances a bit. She laughs at her behavior, then studies the perfectly wrapped present on the table. It's just like he would wrap it, she figures, slapping a bow on the top. That's how she knows.

Still humming, still moving to the cheery song, she carefully piles the gifts under the tree, then she takes a step back. She counts them, and she knows exactly how many there should be. "Missing one," she mutters to herself. And that's how she knows that Elliot has made her fall in love with, not only him, but with Christmas.

She rolls her eyes as she walks toward the closet, and as she swings open the door, a pink and white striped bag falls from the top shelf, nearly knocking her in the head. "What the hell?" she mumbles, bending down to pick it up. She looks in the bag, and her smirk grows wide and wicked. Her fingers wrap around the red silk and they slide along the black and white lace edging. "Guess I know what he wants for Christmas," she chuckles, lifting the teddy out of the bag completely.

It's not the sheerness of it, it's not the fact that he knows she would never choose something so revealing for herself that shocks her. It's the diamond ring tied to the white ribbon bow in the very center that shocks her. With wide eyes, she shoves the garment back into the bag, and she bites her lip as she heads into the bedroom.

She checks her watch, then looks around the room as if to see if anyone's looking. She digs the negligee out of the bag again, lays it out on the bed, and she nods to herself. "It's only fair," she shrugs, and she pulls her green sweater over her head.

She only has about ten minutes before he's due to come home. Kathy doesn't live far from them, and he's only dropping the kids off for the night. She changes fast, then hurries into the bathroom. She flails around a bit, searching for her razor and gel, and she does a rushed job of smoothing out every bit of skin she prays he will be touching tonight.

After running over her freshly shaven body with a warm cloth, she rubs a light scented lotion into her skin, and she flips her fingers through her hair. She manically unscrews the cap to the mouthwash, gargles, and spits, then slams the bottle down on the counter before flying back into the bedroom.

When she hears the front door open, she freezes. Taking a deep breath, she sprawls out on the bed, and she hopes like Hell that he won't be mad at her for not just finding her gift a little early, but for keeping it.

She looks at her watch again, and she slowly lets go of the breath she's been holding. They live by the time, knowing that any minute they could be interrupted, called away to a nauseous-making crime scene, summoned to a judge's chambers. She prays that tonight, time will be on their side.

Her eyes shoot to the bedroom door when she hears his footsteps just outside. She stiffens a bit, watching the door open, and she sees his face. She sees his smile. "Hey, there," she purrs.

"What are you doing in the…" he stops talking, his eyes land on her, he dies. "Holy shit."

She chuckles a bit. "You have good taste, El," she tells him, crooking her finger at him. "And you got the perfect size."

His pants are already on the floor as he tugs on his shirt. "I know everything about you," he says gruffly. "About your body."

She arches her back when he attacks, his lips finding her pulse and gnawing on her neck. She moans his name, and she whispers, "I know you do."

He skims his left hand under the hem of the slick, red fabric. "How did you find it?"

"Would you believe me if I told you it just kind of hit me?" she jokes. She moans again, and she trembles as his hand roams higher, as his lips skim over the skin behind her ear, as his hot breath sends shivers down her spine.

He stops, suddenly remembering something as his hand makes it to the top of the teddy. He feels the ring under his fingers and he wonders if she knows it's there. "You…you look absolutely perfect in this," he whispers into her ear, tugging the ribbon, loosening the bow. He feels the ring fall into his hand, and he sucks her earlobe into his mouth.

"Oh, shit, baby," she mumbles, her fingers curling around his length. She strokes, making him grunt, making him thrust into her hand.

He reaches out to his right, and he lays the ring down on the nightstand knowing now is not the time to give it to her. He growls and bites down on her ear lobe, tugging a bit. His hands move to her body, he hikes up the hem of the lacy thing she's wearing.

She laughs, his gentleness tickles, and she looks into his eyes as he climbs over her. She raises an eyebrow when she sees an interesting grin on his face.

He bends over, his lips touch hers as he pushes his tip into her soft, wet heat. "So perfect," he repeats, tracing one finger along the curve of her breasts. He pushes in a bit deeper, watching her eyes widen and her mouth open, and he smiles down at her.

She moans, digs her nails into his back, and cries his name in response to his lips wrapping around one of her nipples.

He's pushed the silk down to suckle on her, his other hand caresses the other nipple through the fabric. He knows the dual sensations are driving her crazy. He moans her name around her hardened bud as he buries himself to hilt inside of her.

"Fuck," she breathes, her senses overwhelmed. With an arched back and closed eyes, she feels him, every inch of him inside of her. She feels how deep he is, and it dawns on her that he has always been the only person who has ever been able to reach the deepest parts of her. Her heart, her soul, and her body belong to him now, as they always have, completely.

He remains focused on her eyes, her face, as he pulls out of her almost fully, then thrusts back slowly. He slides a hand down her arm, he pulls her right hand off of his back, and he presses it down onto the mattress near her head. He links his fingers with hers, clenching as he moves faster.

She holds his hand just as tightly, she meets every thrust he gives her, and she hears the song from the living room, the words have never meant more than they do now. "El," she groans, scratching her other hand up his back hard.

"Fuck, Liv," he seethes, moving faster. He, too, can hear the song from beyond the four walls of the bedroom. He kisses her and he slams his hips against hers hard. He agrees with the song, all he wants for Christmas is the woman beneath him, and it wouldn't be Christmas without her. "God, Liv."

She scrapes her nails down his spine as she trembles against him. Intense as it always is, this feels different. Maybe it's the ring she knows he's got tucked away now, maybe it's the fact that his eyes have been open and on hers the entire time, or maybe it's the spirit of Christmas making her hyper-aware of everything.

He slows down, he kisses her as he draws out his length and slides it back in deeply, taking his time. He feels her clench, he feels her shake, and he sees her pupils dilate. "Let go," he whispers against her lips.

And because she knows she can't hold back anymore, she does. Her back bends, her toes curl, her hand folds in on his, and she cries his name loudly.

Watching it happen, feeling it happen, gives him the drive he needs to thrust through it. He lets her ride out her release as he continues working her, and when he feels her pulsing around him, he grunts and slams his hips into hers one last time.

She hears him mumbling her name as he shoots into her, and she holds onto him tighter. He's the only man she has ever trusted completely, both with her body and her heart. She loves feeling him let go for her, because of her.

He slows, and then he stops, and he nuzzles the crook of her neck where his head now lies. "This wasn't how I planned this," he says softly.

"I found it," she whispers. "I'm sorry, baby."

He shakes his head as he lifts it to look down at her. He pulls out of her and rolls onto his side, and he picks up the ring off of the end table. "It's so much better than I planned it." He laughs. "You surprised me, before I could surprise you."

"You know I hate surprises," she says, smirking. She sits up and kisses him, wraps her arms around his neck, and says, "But this one…I really didn't mind."

He holds the ring between his thumb and forefinger, and he holds it up. "What about this one?"

She blinks once, the shock of seeing it before hasn't made it any less scary or exciting. "El," she says softly, her eyes staring at the diamond.

"Partners," he says, slipping the ring onto her finger. "For better or worse. For life." He eyes her carefully. "Will you marry me?"

"Yes, baby," she says, cupping his face and kissing him. She knows there are tears running down her cheeks, but it doesn't bother her. That's how she knows.

**A/N: Next: Stuck at work on Christmas? How will they deal? They need a bit of a miracle. **


	19. Everything It's Not, One Shot

**A/N: Working through Christmas brings two people closer than they imagined. **

**DISCLAIMER: Dick Wolf owns SVU and its characters. TStabler© owns the narrative, dialogue and plot of this story.**

"What time is it?" Olivia asks, rubbing her eyes and stifling a yawn.

Her partner hands her a cup of coffee, hot and dark like she likes it, and he tells her, "Almost midnight."

She hums as she takes a sip of her steaming cup. "Almost Christmas," she says, dropping the cup and picking up a file. "I'm sorry you're stuck with me, instead of your kids."

"Yeah, well," he spits, "What can ya do, right? We don't have the luxury of paid vacation and holidays like other jobs." He lifts up a file, sips his coffee, and lets out a grunt.

She eyes him for a moment. Usually, this time of year, he's chipper and happy. "You shouldn't have to miss Christmas Eve with them, El," she says, taking the file from him. "Go home."

"No," he retorts, taking the folder back. "I'd rather get everything done, find this asshole, and make it home before the kids open their presents, so..." he waves his hand at her. "Work."

She raises an eyebrow and huffs. Normally, she would shout something back at him, but tonight, she doesn't think it's worth it. He's clearly pissed off at her, he doesn't want to talk about it, so she sighs and continues pouring through their suspect files. She glances at the coffee he gave her, and it doesn't seem as welcoming anymore.

"What's your problem, now?" he asks, interrupting her thoughts, noticing her shift in mood.

"My problem?" she cracks. "You're...forget it. Just get back to work."

He narrows his eyes, then looks down at the papers in his hands. "How old was the vic?"

"Thirteen," she replies, not looking at him.

He flops the folder in his hands into a box behind him. "Not that guy's type," he mumbles. "You got anything, yet?"

She hands him a folder. "He was paroled two days ago, has a brother who lives in the area, and she was his type. Down to her hair color."

"So what are we waiting for? Let's go!" he gets up, then he remembers. "Cragen benched us," he huffs, sitting back down. "Shit."

She already has the phone in her hands, dialing Fin's number, and she shakes her head. "If you could control your temper a little better, we..."

"Okay," he snaps, "What the hell is your problem tonight?"

She raises a finger. "Fin? We got something for ya. Vince Daniels, we collared him a year ago for...yeah, that's him. His brother's house on Forty-Eighth. Yeah. No, we'll be here until Daddy un-grounds us. Have fun," she laughs. "Bye."

He waits until she hangs up the phone. "You wanna tell me, now?"

"You," she says, looking right at him.

It stings, his eyes twitch. "What?"

"What's going on with you, El?" she asks, her voice low now. "We've been spending so much more time together since your divorce, and...well, we're a lot closer now, but you haven't really talked to me in weeks. If you think we made some kind of mistake here, then just tell me, so I can..."

"Mistake?" he interrupts. "Are you out of your mind?"

She simply blinks at him. "The way you've been acting around me lately..."

"Look," he stops her, running a hand down his face. "It's Christmas Eve, Liv, and I'm here with you...at work, not at home...when I...when we should be with my kids." He shrugs. "I'm pissed off because I had plans for tonight, okay? And I wasn't even aware that I wasn't talking to you as much. Maybe it's because, now, there are other things I can do with you that don't require a lot of talking." He smirks, his eyes narrow.

"There's nothing bothering you? Nothing you're not telling me?" she questions, tilting her head.

He takes a deep breath, he lets it out slowly. "Just one thing," he says. "But I just...I didn't think telling you...I thought it would be too soon if..."

"See, this is what I'm talking about," she says with closing eyes. "You used to tell me anything, everything. Things you didn't even tell..."

"Don't say her name," he warns, standing up again. "Come with me." He sees her defiance and he continues. "I'm gonna tell you, I just…a little privacy would be nice."

She stands, confused, and follows him up the narrow steps to the bunk room they've been sleeping in for days. She watches as he walks over to the bed he long ago claimed as his, and he sits. She moves slowly as he pats the mattress beside him, and she plops down. "Okay," she says. "Tell me."

"How cold do you think it is outside?" he asks softly.

She chuckles. "You brought me up here to talk to me about the weather?"

"Just answer the question," he laughs.

She shrugs. "It's snowing. Cold."

"When I'm with you, Liv, I can't feel that." He reaches for her hand, and he wraps his fingers around hers. "Everything's warm when I'm with you." He looks into her eyes. "It's Christmas Eve, and I'm upset that I'm not gonna get the one thing I really wanted this year, because I blew up at a suspect and got us both written up." He moves closer to her. "But I do have you, here, now. I have what I need."

"You do," she says, her voice only a whisper. "Tell me, El," she says a bit louder. "What you couldn't say to..."

"I love you," he interjects, his eyes fixed on hers. "It's too soon, it's not the right thing to be afraid of saying to you, and I've probably scared the shit out of you, but..."

Her lips silence him. Her kiss stops his words.

He cups her face and he hears her mumble something against his lips, he smirks, and he kisses her even harder, pulling her closer.

She pulls back when her lungs begin to ache, and she stares at him. "What did you say?"

He laughs. "I said, I love you."

"Just checking," she says with a smile. "I kind of wanted to hear it again."

"You will," he tells her. "Every day, every night." He kisses her again, smoothing his hands through her hair. "If you don't mind," he adds. "If you don't think I just rushed you." He bites his lip.

She knows why he couldn't tell her, why it made him irritable and nervous. "It's not too soon," she whispers, swiping her thumbs under his eyes. "It took years, El."

He smiles at her and kisses her again, but the sounds of yelling and slamming doors breaks them apart. "We gotta go," he says sadly, pulling her up as he stands. He leads her to the door but turns as he opens it, and he looks at her. "It wasn't just me being afraid to say it," he says. "I guess I've been quieter because of the way we are now. The way we've always been, really. With you...I can be with you and not say anything at all, not have a single thing to say, and be happy in the silence. I would take a quiet night with you over a loud night with anyone else, baby."

"Even on Christmas?" she asks with a smile.

He leans toward her and kisses her softly. "Oh, yeah," he tells her with a wink. "It's not a fireplace and apple cider, it's not home on the sofa, and it's not my kids and a ton of cookies...but it's you and me, and it's perfect." He moves again, tugging on her hand as he walks out of the room and down the stairs, but he stops in his tracks when he sees the people in the middle of the squad room. His eyes light up and he runs, pulling the four teenagers into his arms. "How did you…what are you…why…"

"Liv called," Maureen, the oldest child, says as she hugs her father. "She said you'd be working late and you wanted to see us before midnight."

Kathleen, the middle kid, nods. "Tradition, Dad," she says, holding up a bag of wrapped gifts. "First present is opened at midnight. We couldn't miss it with you." She hears a bang from the room behind her. "And what is going on in the interrogation room?"

Elliot chuckles. "Probably one hell of an interrogation," he says, taking the bag from his daughter. "How did you guys get here?"

"It took a lot of convincing, but Mom finally drove us out here," Dickie, the only boy, adds.

Lizzie, the boy's twin sister, chimes in. "It was only after we told her we'd take the subway."

Laughter fills the air, and Elliot turns to look at Olivia. "You amazing woman," he says, shaking his head. "Why'd you tell me to go home if…"

"I didn't know if they'd make it," she interrupts. "Open your presents, El. Spend some time alone with your…"

"Where are you going?" Maureen asks, her eyes wide.

Lizzie smiles at her. "You have to open your presents, too!"

Olivia tilts her head and furrows her brow. "What?"

"Come here," Elliot says, his grin huge as he waves her over.

She moves closer, slowly, and she watches with a smile as the kids each pass around their gifts, some going to their father, some to her, and some to each other. It's quiet, except for the sounds coming from the brutal interrogation going on in the next room, and she understands now.

Elliot moves closer to her, wrapping an arm around her waist. He kisses her cheek and he checks his watch. "Merry Christmas," he says.

She looks into his eyes, and the only words that leave her lips are ones that should have done so half an hour ago. "I love you, too."

It takes him a minute to understand her response, and he laughs. He pulls her into his arms, and he starts dancing her around in circles. "Yeah," he whispers. "You do."

His children look on, rolling their eyes but smiling, and they know that Christmas is everything it should be, despite everything it's not.

**A/N: Next: A very odd Christmas ornament catches Elliot's eye on Christmas morning, and it changes his life, for good.**


	20. Relax, One Shot

**A/N: Christmas Eve brings a few surprises along with it.**

**DISCLAIMER: Dick Wolf owns SVU and the characters; TStabler© owns the story you're about to read.**

"Well," Elliot says, sighing as he leans back on the couch. "Kids are asleep, presents are wrapped, dishes are done. I think we can actually relax."

Olivia drops her head to his shoulder and scoots closer to him. "Thank God," she mumbles.

He laughs as he pulls the red and green throw around them. He reaches for the small remote on the arm of the sofa, and he hits a few buttons. Slow, sweet music fills the air and the fireplace in front of them lights up. He turns his head and he kisses her, gentle and soft.

"What was that for?" she asks, tilting her head.

"Since when do I need a reason to kiss you?" he asks in return. He watches her shrug, then he smiles and kisses her again. "Merry Christmas," he whispers, moving his lips down her mouth, over her chin, across her neck.

She moans despite the desire to push him away and simply relax for the evening. "El, what are you doing?"

"We haven't been alone all week," he says, his tongue trailing along the outer rim of her ear. He feels her shiver in his arms, and he chuckles. "Kids have been off from school, we've been surrounded by crazy teens and a crying toddler."

She whimpers as she feels his hands slip under her tee shirt, smooth over her stomach, and rest over her sensitive nipples. She gasps when he caresses them, moans when he rolls them in his fingers, and she yelps a bit when he pinches them. "Fuck," she hisses.

"Language, Detective Benson," he teases, rolling them again. He looks into her eyes, seeing them darken, and he knows his ministrations are making her wet. She only curses like that when she can't control things, and he loves that he can bring that out of her.

She wants to fight against him, she wants to regain some kind of control of this, but she can't move. He has her right where he wants her and he knows it, and she's helpless against him. Especially with the fire roaring and the romantic holiday tune filtering through the room. She's weaker than she has ever been.

He notices, and he growls as he drops his hands to her flannel pants. He pulls them down just a bit and teases the skin just below her navel. "You're so soft," he whispers, his palm flattening and sliding into her pants. He cups her freshly-waxed mound, and he moans. "So smooth."

She moans his name, her head falls back, hitting the couch, and she bucks her hips a bit into his hand. She wants him, she needs him, but it's Christmas Eve and they made a promise to each other. "El," she pants, biting her lip as he pushes a finger into her. "Oh, God, El."

He nips at the skin of her neck as he squeezes a second digit into her warmth. "You're so wet," he mutters to her. "Just for me, right?"

Forgetting her exhaustion, she nods. "You do this to me," she breathes, her hips rocking with the thrust of his hand. "Only you."

"Damn right," he grunts, twisting his fingers. He crashes his lips into hers, his tongue dances with hers almost in time to the music. His free hand grips her and he rolls, pulling her on top of him.

She laughs and pulls the blanket around her like a cape, watching him wrestle with the button on his own pajama bottoms. She bites her lip and drops her hands to his legs, helping to free him.

"Oh, God, yes," he whispers, his eyes closing. He moans softly as she strokes him, and he whispers her name. His eyes pop open and dart to hers, though, when he feels her sink onto him fully. He wraps his hands around her hips and kisses her roughly as she begins to ride him, slow and deep.

She chuckles against his mouth, her success in finally having the upper hand makes her proud, and she kisses him back with a ferocity that scares him a bit. She feels his hands grip her harder, and she lets him move her faster.

"So long," he grunts, their kiss muffling his words. "It's been too fucking long, baby." He feels her tighten around him, and he holds her down as he slams up into her. He needs this, now, and he doesn't want to wait anymore.

She whines, cups his face, and cries into his mouth. Her moans are high and fast, the pressure in her body is building intensely, and just as fast as she took back control she loses it again.

The noise he catches with his lips is something between a growl and a scream, and he feels her tighten around him, feels her wetness seep down his length and hit his thigh, and knowing what it all means sets him off.

She feels him tense beneath her and she listens to the series of grunts and "Oh, God"s that fly out of his mouth. She pulls away from his mouth to look into his eyes as he cums, and she sees them widen then shut tightly. He mesmerizes her.

Breathing heavily, he smoothes his hands over her back and kisses her gently to calm them both down. He turns his head to look at the clock, and he laughs. "We're supposed to be relaxing," he says. "The fire, some hot chocolate, and one gift each tonight. Guess I got a little...distracted."

She nods with a laugh, and she kisses his lips again. But his gaze is not on her anymore. She bites her lip, knowing he sees something he should have noticed long ago. "What?"

"What is that?" he asks, nudging her off of him and adjusting his pants. He stands and walks over to the tree. "Liv, what the hell is on the..." He stops speaking when he realizes it.

She presses her lips together and stands, pulling her bottoms up. She moves toward him and watches him pull the homemade ornament off of the green branch. "That's...that's your present. One of them."

He turns and he stares for a moment. "You...you put this on the...you just weren't gonna show this to me?"

"If you didn't notice it, I was going to..." she yelps, forgetting what she was saying, when his arms wrap around her and he swoops her into his arms.

"Really?" he asks, his once dark eyes now bright and wet with tears. His hand clutches the clear, plastic ornament. Inside, the pregnancy test with red and green ribbon tied around it sits with a blue plus sigh for a smile. He swings her around again, and he laughs. "Really?"

"Yes," she says, smiling at him.

He kisses her, this time not caring about leading to something, not caring about making her feel anything but pure joy. "I love you," he whispers. "This is probably the best Christmas present ever."

She laughs and kisses him once more. "Well, then, you're gonna have an incredible Father's Day present," she says with a grin.

"June?" he chuckles. "You're due in June? When did you find out?"

"Last night," she says, nuzzling his nose with hers. "When I took the test." She kisses him. "Before you say anything, I took five. All positive." She wipes the tears away from his eyes with her thumbs. "Merry Christmas, El."

His answer is another kiss, and he forgets all about giving her the box he wants her to open tonight. He leads her back to the couch, his lips attached to hers, and he figures he can wait. She can't use it at the moment. She's busy, and will be until the wee hours of Christmas morning.

**A/N: Merry Christmas to all, and to all a goodnight! Much love and joy on the holiday, no matter what you celebrate. Thanks for reading.**


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